


Falling in love at a Coffee Shop

by Speakfuckingenglish



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Endgame Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Falling In Love, Gay, M/M, POV Mickey, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speakfuckingenglish/pseuds/Speakfuckingenglish
Summary: Inspired by Landon Pigg - Falling in Love at a Coffee ShopJust another Gallavich Storyin which Ian is working at a Coffee Shop.And Mickey needs a coffee. Urgently.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 37
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. 
> 
> I'm glad you got lost here :) 
> 
> the idea for this fanfiction has been haunting my mind for a few months now.  
> Unfortunately I'm not the best writer...english is not my first language, so I'm sorry  
> if a mistake has crept in every now and then. 
> 
> The whole story is told from Mickey's POV.  
> No need to say what that means for the wording? ^^
> 
> Have fun with it (hopefully)

This winter was really damn cold. It had been snowing for days, and the streets of Chicago were covered with a white flicker shimmering in the light of the lanterns. Mickey had put on the warmest jacket he had. Damn, this thing was probably at least one size too big for him, but who gives a shit as long as he doesn't freeze his ass off. It was earlier in the evening when Mickey called it a day. It was already quite dim. All the neon signs on the walls of the mall brightened up the street right in front of the building, but the further Mickey walked down the street, the more he realized how dark it already was.

This was downtown fucking Chicago, and still many of the stores were closed. Some smaller fashion stores and pubs had closed and the locations had been sold. Now some fucking hipster assholes bought up half the city and Mickey didn't like the effect it had. Suddenly you can't get a beer in the pub on the corner anymore, but hey, surprise. Here is now a “shitty-organic-fucked-up-hipster-yoga-store“ where you could get fucked up vitamin A to shit smoothies for 10 bucks. And goddamn, those hipsters were friggin' annoying. Okay, to be honest, most people got on Mickeys nerves pretty fast. To be honest, Mickey was not the type of person who hung around a lot with other people anyway. Somehow he always felt uncomfortable between people. He didn't know exactly what it was about, but shit, it was probably the pretty fucked up childhood his homophobic Nazi pop gave him.

Still lost in thought, he was walking down the street when a voice addressed to him and he noticed a person coming towards him from the side

"Excuse me, in this cold season I would like to offer you a flyer for a coffee only half price"

a young girl in a thick winter jacket stood in front of Mickey and held a piece of paper out to him with her arm stretched out. The girl smiled at him friendly and out of her woolly cap peeked out single strands of red hair Mickey was taken by surprise by the speech and stared at the flyer the girl was holding out to him, and when he still didn't react, the girl waved the paper in her hand 

"It won't bite you, take it!“

Mickey grabbed the flyer out of her hand and started reading

**> New Opening - Your first coffee at half price and a free waffle.<**

Holy shit. This was one of those fucking hipster stores that just opened here. With eyebrows raised, Mickey looked at the redheaded flyer girl

"What the fuck am I gonna do with this shit?“

Redhead pointed to the store behind her. The shop windows were covered with newspapers, but you could see that the lights were on inside.

"We are opening our coffee shop tomorrow, when you hand in the flyer you will get...-"

"Yeah, yeah, got it!" 

What kind of conversation was this going to be? Mickey didn't feel like having any kind of conversation anyway. It was damn cold and even though he had his winter jacket on, his hands were freezing to death in that moment. He demonstratively crumpled the flyer in front of Patty's - or whatever the brat was called - face and let it disappear into his jacket pocket. Then he turned around and left

"see ya"

he brought out and rummaged in his jacket for his cigarettes. An enpurified "heeeey" echoed behind him, but Mickey ignored the shrill sound. He just wanted his ass on his couch. Turn on some Netflix shit and lie on the fucking couch. Sleepless. God, so sleepless.

At home, Mickey emptied his jacket pockets in the kitchen and threw them over one of the two chairs at the small dining table. His next grab was the fridge. Beer. On the way to the sofa he took the first sip from the bottle. Mickey's apartment was not very big. When you came in, you were practically standing right in the living room. And that meant in the kitchen, too, because there was no wall, no door between the two areas. In the back of the room there was a small hallway that led to the bedroom on the right and the bathroom on the left. And that was it. But who cares. Mickey hadn't used the bedroom for an eternity anyway. The most important thing was that he could shower and eat. Sleep? Not Mickey's greatest skill. It's been going on like this for as long as he can remember. He is tired, so damn tired. His eyes are so darn heavy. But he just can't keep them closed for long. He's always shaking up from a half-sleep, nightmares, rolling back and forth. He can't even remember the last time he slept for several hours in a row. Fuck. Of course it was like any other night. The hours ran by and every time Mickey checked his clock, about an hour had passed.

03:18

04:03

05:00

05:48

When the clock showed 7:32, Mickey was getting annoyed. He trotted straight into the bathroom and got under the shower. The hot water felt like a blessing on his skin. But the only thing that could wake him up was the hard way. He took a deep breath and then turned the tap on cold. Within seconds the comforting warm feeling disappeared. An icy sting went through Mickey's whole body and with a shiver he groaned and turned off the water. Shit, these cold showers in the morning were sickening. But at least he was awake now. Quickly, Mickey wrapped a towel around himself and rushed to his closet in the bedroom. That was all he went into the bedroom for. Fresh clothes. The bed was probably already covered with cobwebs. It was easier to sleep on the couch. If he couldn't sleep at night, he could at least stare thoughtlessly at the TV. When he was still lying in his bed, he would always stare across the room for hours, through the darkness. It was depressing since everything was dead quiet. The flickering glow from the TV seemed more pleasant to Mickey. Mickey selectively grabbed a T-shirt and one of his modified chemises from the cupboard. Mickey had cut off the sleeves of almost all his shirts. No idea why. He had been doing that since he was 15. At least. After he got dressed, his next step led him into the kitchen. Oh yeah, a god damn coffee. He turned on the coffee machine and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard next to it. Breakfast. He wouldn't find more than Lucky Charms in his kitchen anyway, because he had forgotten to go buy groceries. As he was pouring his milk into the bowl he noticed something in the corner of his eye. What the..-? Fuck no! The damn coffee machine was just about to leak and ruined the whole kitchen for him. In a hurry Mickey turned off the machine and started to wipe the brown puddle on his countertop. Fucking shit. He really didn't need that now. A damn defective coffee machine. Annoyed Mickey let himself sink on one of the chairs and grabbed a cigarette. What a lousy start for the day. His eyes finally caught the crumpled paper next to his cigarette box. The flyer girl. With one hand he grabbed the paper ball and folded it out. _> New Opening - Your first coffee at half price and a free waffle.<_ The flyer was designed in a bright green and the font was kept simple. Not some fancy, fucking squiggly font that you barely could read. The headline on the flyer read _> The Coffe Club<_ Was that the fucking name of the store? Coffe Club. Stupid name. But fuck it. Mickey needed a coffee. Now.

When Mickey arrived at the _Coffee Club_ , he saw the Flyer girl standing in front of the entrance. The streets were not very crowded at this early hour. A few people were on their way to work and in passing they put in a flyer.

"Aye, Patty!"

The girl turned to him

"It's Debbie, douche bag"

Very cheeky mouth

"Is this your idea of a customer-friendly welcoming?"

The reaction is a sneering laugh

"Customer? I honestly don't care. Everybody gets what they deserve. Don't you think?"

With a shrug, Mickey flicked his cigarette away.

" Whatever, good for you, Pats!"

Before flyer girl Patty, Debbie or whatever name, answered, Mickey opened the door to the coffee club and escaped her nagging. As soon as he entered, a pleasant warmth immediately spread within him. The store was incredibly warm. A pure blessing for Mickey's hands. The second thing he realized was the scent in the air. Fresh coffee. However, it was quite different than at home. When he turned on his coffee machine at home, it didn't smell very much of anything. Well, he only had one of those old filter machines, where you tipped coffee powder into the filter and put a glass jug underneath. If you're from the Southside you don't have one of those ultra modern and fucking expensive capsule machines. And you don't have a fully automatic or any kind of whacky machine that grinds up fresh coffee beans. His gaze wandered searchingly through the room. Didn't look like one of those modern hipster stores. The interior was very dark and [rustic](https://rothschildbickers.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/Blog-image_03.jpg). On the right side some tables and chairs, on the left side the counter including a huge cake display. Pretty stale. But the cake looked great. And the damn smell! Fucking fantastic. Behind the counter there was a door that opened at that moment. But Mickey was too busy analyzing the place and deciding if he liked this place.

"Hey, you want to order something?"

a bright, friendly voice asked. Mickey turned toward the counter and saw a young woman. Long dark hair, big fawn eyes. Real pretty. Probably a men's magnet, but Mickey wasn't very good at judging such things. Mickey was into guys, which was always a problematic fact in his life. After all, his asshole father thought that Milkovich men must like pussy. He had been acting in this game for a long time and had been banging some chicks once in a while. However, this was never particularly fulfilling for him and he had never felt comfortable with it. But if your own father would kill you because you prefer fucking with dudes, you don't have much choice. You just play the fucking game. And Mickey was in this game with Terry for a long time. Every few months when the old man sat in the joint, he could take a break from this shit.

"Okay, you can just stand there and ignore me."

With a shrug, she disappeared through the door she came out of. Mickey could still hear her screaming as the door behind her slammed closed

"IIIIIIIAAAAAN!"

And then it happened. That moment. Mickey had no idea how important this day actually was. He had no idea what the consequences would be. A cold night, a flyer, a broken coffee machine...all of these were ordinary little things. Things that happened to somebody in this friggin' world every day. But what followed didn't happen to every goddamn person in the damn world. And Mickey had no idea. Jesus fucking Christ, Mickey didn't know what it would feel like.

Another time the door behind the counter opened. Tall, athletic, red-haired, freckles all over the face.The guy was putting on an apron as he came out the door. Then he looked up and straight at Mickey.

"Hi. What can I get you? "

Mickey stepped up to the counter. Just stay cool, man. Shit, freckle was hot. With a friendly smile the guy waited for an answer. What name had the chick yelled? Uh. Ian? Yeah, ian it was.

"Uh, hi. Coffee, man. Please"

Mickey answered briefly, pulled the flyer from his pocket and put it in before him. Ian just took a quick glance at the flyer and then looked at Mickey again. He had an amused grin on his face

"Coffee...sure, but what kind of coffee?"

Mickey noticed how he automatically frowned. There was nothing he could do about it. What kind of stupid question was that?

" Preferably the kind of coffee that makes me fucking awake"

Mickey didn't expect that the grin on Ian's face would get bigger after that answer. Yet it did happen.

"Okay, we got a lot of that shit which will wake you up."

With one finger Ian pointed to a board on the wall behind him. 

"But I think I know what you mean"

Mickey's attention wandered to the board. Holy shit.

Americano

Espresso

Capuccino

Latte

Iced coffe

Frapuccino

The holy fuck was that?

"You want to drink the coffee here or to go?"

"Here"

A smile, a nod.

"Okay, you can sit down, I'll bring everything to your table"

So Mickey casually strolled to one of the tables across the room, took off his jacket, hung it over his chair and sat down. He watched Ian walk back and forth behind the counter, opening and closing cupboards. Ian did not notice Mickey's stares. He was too busy. So why not keep looking. Redhead was actually a very nice view. The grey t-shirt he wore was tight and emphasized his muscles. The way he moved was flowing. He had no idea how much time had passed when Ian finally picked up a tray and walked towards him, but he could have watched it forever.

"One coffee, black. Is that all right?"

"perfect."

Ian smiled satisfied

"Okay, and since you seem like a straightforward guy, your free waffle doesn't have a lot of niceties."

Excitedly, Ian placed the tray right in front of Mickey.

"Thanks"

"Let me know if I can get you anything else."

Ian, with a smile, turned away and left Mickey on his own. Gosh, Mickey hasn't had a coffee as good as this one in a long time. And the hot waffle with powdered sugar was food porn in contrast to the Lucky Charms at home. But Mickey took his time. It was his day off, so why hurry? Coffee, waffle, redhead observation, coffee, waffle, redhead observation. And again. Mickey felt somehow satisfied when he left the Coffe Club, that stupid store with the dumb fucking name. He had put $10 on the counter and with a "See ya" he had walked out the door. The flyer girl had disappeared. Probably froze her ass off and needed a break. Mickey felt the cold on his skin as he lit a cigarette and headed down the street towards his apartment. Who cares, so his morning routine from now on ends in this messed up store... well, until he would get a new coffee machine. But there was no hurry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter the focus is a bit more on Mickey and his story. Where does he come from, what kind of life does he have?   
> Yes, we all know Mickey and already know these things, but it was important to me.   
> Also, in this chapter you will meet two "new" Characters.   
> Once we are done warming up, I think this is going to be very cute. Listen to me, super cute!

It was pitch black. No matter how hard he tried and pushed, Mickey could see absolutely nothing. It was like he was inside a deep, black nowhere. It was cold in that darkness and Mickey wasn't even sure if he was wearing any clothes. He could neither feel it nor see it. Everything was dull. Not a sound could be heard. And then there was this urge he couldn't ignore. Fucking hell, Mickey wanted to breathe, gasp for air. No matter how hard he tried, in his nothingness there was no air, no oxygen. He wanted to scream, but even that was impossible. It felt like his mouth had been sealed with staples. Shit, shit, shit. That's it. Just fucking over. Why the hell was it so dark in here? His throat was burning, his head threatened to burst apart in fear and panic. The feeling of suffocation slowly crept up Mickey's neck and whispered incomprehensible words into his ear. The whispering slowly became louder and louder, and yet he didn't understand a single word. Something cold, so goddamn cold, wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed tightly. He kicked, since it seemed as if he was floating. He kicked as hard as he could, putting his own hands around his neck to remove what was tugging at him there so icily. But there was nothing. Nothing that he could have grabbed. The whisper became a shrill scream in his ear. Loud. So damn loud. Just when he thought his eardrum would pop at that moment, the sound changed. The scream became a melody. The melody was familiar to him. Guitar, drums. A pleasant melody. And then a voice sounded

[ _When you were here before  
Couldn't look you in the eye  
You're just like an angel  
Your skin makes me cry  
You float like a feather  
In a beautiful world  
I wish I was special  
You're so fuckin' special_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFYEYRcjK2g)

[_But I'm a creep_  
I'm a weirdo  
What the hell am I doing here?  
I don't belong here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFYEYRcjK2g)

Abruptly Mickey opened his eyes.

It was still dark, but in a different way.

He recognized his living room. On the other side of the room the TV was flickering silently. Damn. Slowly Mickey sat up and pushed the blanket away from him. On the small table by the couch was his cell Phone, vibrating rhythmically to the sound of Radiohead. It was his fucking alarm clock. He grabbed the cell phone and turned off the alarm. 7:00 a.m. Shit, the last time he looked at the clock was 05:52. He had actually slept for a complete hour and of course he was immediately punished with the nightmare he already knew. For months this dream had haunted him. Either he rolled back and forth sleeplessly on the couch, or he had this dream. It was not always completely the same. Sometimes it was only black around him for half an eternity before the shortness of breath began. Sometimes it started immediately and he fought the whole time against suffocation. It was only a dream, yes, but in those moments he was not able to know he was dreaming. And so night after night it was the same naked horror.

Before he left the Milkovich house and moved into his own apartment, he never had these dreams. It would have been completely pointless as well. Sharing a house with Terry fucking Milkovich was the real nightmare. Mickey had been working as security at the mall for almost a year now. When Terry was picked up by the police for some gun drug shit in a bar fight, it was against his parole and he went back to the hole. Right where he belongs. He' d better be rotting in there, that dumb motherfucker. Anyway, Mickey saw his chance, packed the few things he had and took off. His sister, Mandy, had already done that before he did. He rarely heard from her, but as long as she didn't have to live under the same roof with the guy (aka "Daddy") who regularly raped her when he was drunk, she should be better now, Mickey thought. Whatever, he had to get ready for work.

It was half past seven when Mickey opened the door to the Coffee Club and let himself get hugged by a cozy warmth.

Without pausing, he stepped up to the counter. To his surprise, he found a redhead on the other side, but not the one he had hoped for. 

_"Yo, Pats, you got a promotion or something?"_

Debbie was obviously busy cleaning one of the coffee machines and was startled when Mickey spoke to her

_"Holy shit, what's wrong with you?!"_

That was a bit funny. Somehow Mickey liked the girl. Sure, he didn't know her very well, but he liked that such a small person had such a big mouth. Well, he wasn't very tall himself. Maybe it was just that. Who knows.

_"Can I get a fucking normal no-hipster-shit-black-coffee in this hellhole or what?"_

Oh guess what, Patty didn't like it.

_"Did your parents actually teach you any manners, Douche ?!"_

_"No"_

For a moment Mickey and red-headed girl just stare at each other.

_"For three bucks plus tip. And you don't move your ass anywhere else. I won't carry your coffee after you, you hear me?"_

Mickey grabbed $5 from his jacket pocket, tossed it on the counter and gave Debbie a approving look. He would have made a snappish comment in response, but decided against it. After all, this was the wrong redhead. But maybe this redhead could help her with the other redhead

_"So, um. What about the guy who worked here yesterday?"_

_"Ian? Why do you want to know?"_

_"Hey, I'm trying to make small talk here. Try a little harder, Pats."_

Debbie rolled her eyes and placed a filled coffee cup on the counter in front of Mickey.

_"Ian is working late tonight. I took the early shift. Probably he and Franny are still lying in bed lazily now."_

He and Franny.

Franny. His girlfriend?

Lying in bed.

Franny.

Why the fuck was he thinking about that so much? He barely even knew the guy.

_"What's the point of keeping a coffee store open at night?"_

Redhead pushed the coffee cup closer in Mickey's direction

_"It's called coffee club, dork. Twice a week we have a club night here. And on Fridays, Ian's night shift."_

Holy shit. What kind of stupid idea is it to open a coffee store and turn it into a disco at night? Mickey grabbed the cup to wordlessly turn his back on Debbie.He was already moving towards one of the tables when Debbie called out

_"You should come."_

Mickey put his cup down on the table and turned around again.

_"Why would I?"_

_"I don't know. Thought you might like it. What to lose?"_

Nothing.

Mickey couldn't sleep at all. And what else did he have to do? Yet he tried hard to sound as averse as possible.

_"I dunno. Dignity, maybe?"_

He got no more reaction to this. Instead, he saw Debbie's eyes roll again and she continued to work behind the counter ignoring him. Mickey never went to parties or clubs. He didn't really know much about it either. For most of his life, he had been a loner. If he did any activities, it was usually some shit with his brothers or cousins.

Vandalism in the form of graffiti on some ugly building walls? Yup.

Scratching off gun serial numbers for shithead Terry? Sure.

Lying in bed alone with way too loud music and getting drunk? Often. 

What exactly are you doing at such a party? A room full of strangers you don't know or hardly know, loud music (and not even music Mickey would like!), getting drunk is shit expensive and then....yeah... then what?

Just talk to somebody? Discuss the weather? Not a fucking clue. It was probably just not Mickey‘s world.

While he was still thinking about whether he would accept the invitation, he took the last sip from his cup and checked his watch.

Shit. It was time to go to work.

It was early afternoon and Mickey had almost finished his shift. Once again nothing exciting had happened. Being security in the mall he had imagined to be more exciting when he took the job back then. But so what, he earned good money, had a full belly every day and managed to pay the rent.

Today he only had a fight at the jeweler and two brats who wanted to steal some perfume shit. The brats started crying within minutes and begged him not to call their parents or the police. Mickey had no idea what sort of family they came from. But somehow he felt sorry for them. Maybe the brats' parents were as shitty as his own old man. Who knows how many punches they would have received at home. So he decided to just let them go. Of course he had given them a shitty lecture before. But basically he didn't think it was bad. Okay, it was perfume, but they were little girls. He'd been stealing stuff himself a lot when he was the same age. But never perfume. No way. He'd been stealing food mostly. Chips, cookies, chocolate bars. All the good shit they never had at home.

Mickey walked through one of the doors in the mall which had a sign saying " _staff only_ ". When he arrived at his locker, one of his colleagues, Carlos, already changed, was standing in the room typing something on his mobile phone. Damn Carlos.

_"Hey, Mickey, had a good shift?"_

he greeted him with a pleased smile. Carlos was probably in his 50s and always smiling. He was so goddamn friendly, Mickey often thought the guy must have a sore muscle in his face, cos he was grinning stupidly all the time. But what the heck, he was a really nice guy. Couldn't deny it. Carlos was a bit taller than Mickey and his skin was slightly tanned because he was from Spain or something. Mickey was no longer sure. Spain? Portugal? Who cares.

_"Same shit, different day. As Usual"_

Mickey started to pack his clothes out of his locker and get changed. He did not really like his work clothes. Why the hell did this polo shirt have to be purple-pink-whatever-color? Stupid.

_"You're always such a downer, Mickey. It's a shame."_

Frowning, Mickey stuffed the unloved polo shirt into his locker and turned to Carlos

_"What do you expect? Not everyone can walk around the mall smiling like an idiot all day long. You're security. It's not your job to smile at shoplifters, man."_

_"You know why I'm always in such a good mood?"_

Mickey didn't answer, but instead just reacted with an unknowing, wait-and-see look.

_"I get off every day on time, I go home to my beautiful house and then I prepare dinner for John and me. I just look forward to returning home after work"._

Aye. John was Carlos' husband. A cop. Carlos once told Mickey how they met. Some trip through Europe and by chance they both came from Chicago. Carlos always said it was fate, because this thing changed his life too much to be just a random coincidence.

_"You're too young, Mickey. Go out and find a girl for you. It'll do you some good. Or a boy. I'm not sure about you."_

That stupid grin again.

Before Mickey could make any subtle, aggressive comments, Carlos stepped to the door

_"To the minute. See you next week, Mickey."_

Mickey decided not to think too much about Carlos words. Carlos was just Carlos

His stomach rumbled. Time to come home, order a pizza and then sit in front of the TV until the evening.

Fuck it.

Peppermint was right.

There was nothing to lose.

Mickey already knew that he would feel pretty awkward among all the strangers. And people would notice. The chance that there weren't just assholes around was slim to none. The chance that Mickey would find some kind of friend there? Zero. But what the fuck. Booze, a drink. Better than that nightly routine on the couch. He had plenty of time for that later.

So Mickey found himself outside the coffee club at 10:00 p.m. From inside, loud music sounded through the closed door and through the windows he could see at least 20 people. Dancing, laughing, drinking.

Outside the door a guy was sitting on a bar stool and smoking a cigarette. What was that? A fucking doorkeeper? The guy was muscular, but quite small. He could think of at least a dozen people who would have had no respect for this guy.

As Mickey got closer to the door, the little bouncer gave him a look

_"You want in?"_

_"No, I came to freeze my balls off in front of the door."_

The guy grinned and threw his cigarette on the floor in front of Mickey

_"Have fun, man."_

What the...? Was he fucking serious. Did he not recognize a sarcastic comment when it jumped up in his face?

But Mickey wasn't in the mood for trouble.

_"So what, are you goin' to let me in or what?"_

The guy stared at Mickey for a second, but he finally nodded

_"Yeah, sure. Twenty bucks. You can drink as much as you want. We close at midnight. If you haven't drunk for 20 bucks by then, your problem. You're late."_

Casually the guy stood up from his bar stool and stretched out an open hand to Mickey.

Twenty bucks. Patty hadn't mentioned that. Of course she didn't.

But now he was here and it would be frustrating to just leave again. So Mickey took $20 off

_"I hope your booze is damn exquisite!"_

With a shrug, the guy grabbed his chair and opened the door

_"You'll figure it out. I am closing the door now. We don‘t have any more room in there anyway. Besides, you didn't come here for the schnapps, did you?"_

Slowly Mickey followed the guy into the coffee club.

_"Why else would I waste 20 bucks?!"_

That stupid grin again. The door fell into the lock behind them and the little bouncer turned the key. The music sounded really loud in Mickey's ears and he just stood next to the guy in the entrance

_"Well.Knowing you pansy boys , you're more interested in fucking, aren't you?"_

What? What did that guy just say? pansy boys?

_"What did you just call me, fuckhead?!"_

Mickey‘s voice sounded angry.

_"No offense, man. Well, it's gay night. So good luck._ "

The guy patted Mickey on the shoulders and then disappeared through the door behind the counter.

Mickey looked around the room.

The chairs and tables had been moved, so that a kind of dance floor had been created opposite the counter. Only a few guys were sitting at tables.

Guys. In fact Mickey didn‘t notice a single woman.

Gosh, what had he gotten himself into.

He looked around for a while too long and must have seemed like a total idiot, who suddenly realized a person next to him

_"Hey, I didn't expect to see you tonight."_

The gray shirt that highlighted the muscles, the white skin, the freckles and the red hair.

Holy shit, Ian smiled straight at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Okay? Naah? Not so great?   
> I'm enjoying writing this story. 
> 
> I have big plans for the babies. 
> 
> Fun Facts: 
> 
> \- When Fiona buys the laundromat in the show, she talks about how to throw parties there. We haven't really seen much of it, so I decided to put this idea in here. 
> 
> \- Carlos is actually a character from Shameless. We never met him, he was just mentioned.In season 4 after Mickey's coming out, one of the cops who let Mickey go says "I would rather go home to my husband Carlos". I always thought Carlos deserved more attention. Somehow he saved Mickey's ass. Because this cop, whom I just called John, certainly had a little sympathy for Mickey because he is gay himself. You know what I mean? Whatever. I wanted Carlos :D 
> 
> \- "Peppermint Patty" is also a nickname Mickey uses in the series for Debbie.   
> I like it a lot, because in fact Peppermint Patty is a character from the Peanuts that fits Debbie perfectly.   
> I will continue this game between the two of them for a while. He will call Debbie Patty and Debbie will call him a douche bag. At least until...oh well, I won't tell you yet :P 
> 
> So, thats it for today. Hope to see you again, guys :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I worked very long on this chapter. Mainly I didn't have much time to write during the last week. But now it is done.  
> I hope it matches your expectations

Ants. It felt like there was a huge army of ants crawling around under Mickey's skin. They were desperately looking for an exit, but there was none. And because there was no exit, they crawled around aimlessly. His whole body felt warm. And what the hell was wrong with his stomach? It was like all his insides were knotting together. In a very confused way. Everything was twisting and turning and it felt like a huge chaos that ended in a single, giant knot. A pulsing knot. And with each beat, a comforting feeling of heat crawled up Mickey's body Mickey did not know how to react. This damned strange feeling distracted him too much. Luckily the doorkeeper behind the counter appeared at that moment

_"Hey, Ian, I'm out of here, man. See you tomorrow, I guess."_

Ian turned his smile to the guy with the big mouth.

_"Yeah, thanks, Lip. I owe you."_

Lip? Another stupid name. Happy birthday. With a dirty grin, Lip shook his head

_"No, man, it's cool. I have charged overpricing from the most of the customers here. My salary, sort of."_

Mickey heard what this Lip said, but wasn't able to comment in any way. He was busy watching Ian's reaction

_"You serious? How much did you cheat people out of? "_

Shoulder shrug.

"Depends on who you' d ask."

Now Ian grinned too

_"Get your lousy ass to Freddy and Tami, sly dog."_

Lip disappeared and Ian's entire attention was again focused on Mickey

_"Hey, I'm sorry if my brother ripped you off. You want a drink? Self-service tonight, but I'll serve you as compensation. Deal?"_

That smile. Like the goddamn sun just shot up in the middle of the night in wintery Chicago and melted all the snow. The ants loved it. Before Mickey could even answer, Ian walked a few steps down the counter and stopped in front of several small fridges stacked on top of each other. It looked like there were at least 4 of them. In the morning they hadn't been there yet. Ian inspected the coolers

_"Beer? Jack ? Vodka? or maybe just a coke?"_

_"Beer"_

Nodding, Ian opened one of the refrigerators and pulled out two bottles, which he placed on the counter. He pulled out a lighter from his trouser pocket and skillfully opened both bottles with it. Finally he handed one of them to Mickeyand raised the other one for a toast. A barely noticeable short clink sounded when the bottles met and both took a big sip. The beer was cold. So cold. For a brief moment it seemed as if the cold brew loosened the knot in Mickey's belly. But the effect faded immediately when Ian started talking again after his sip of beer

_"What brought you here? You got a date or something?_ "

A date. Of course. Clearly, Mickey Milkovich had a fucking date. Not.

_"No"_

It was so challenging to speak whole sentences. Nervousness. That was exactly the word that described how Mickey was feeling right now. He was fucking nervous. As nervous as someone who was about to donate a kidney in 5 minutes at the back of a McDonald's - knowing that the goddamn guy who was going to cut it out is a butcher by trade.

_"The little redhead invited me"_

he quickly added, so that his answers did not sound too taciturn. Ian's look became skeptical

_"Debbie?"_

Mickey hastily took another sip of his beer. Just pretend everything's cool.

_"yeah man, Debbie."_

The skeptical look didn't stop.

_"Debbie's not even around tonight."_

Yeah, he had already noticed that.

_"She also forgot to tell me bout the 20 bucks admission. So I'm not surprised."_

_"20 Bucks?!"_

Ian almost choked on his beer

_"Damn it, Lip. I'm sorry about that. I'll give you back your money."_

That was kind of...cute. There was no other word for it. No better one. There was a obvious appearance of shame in Ian's facial expression. He scratched the back of his head, a short sheepish grin, and a little worry was visible in his eyes. Mickey wanted to grin. But somehow he didn't want anyone to see him grinning. No, he didn't want Ian to see him grinning. Keeping cool was the plan. So he just shook his head subtly and waved one hand

_"Just drop it, man. It's okay."_

And somehow it happened. Mickey doesn't know how, but the words just shot out of his mouth. Without thinking about it and with eyebrows raised. Damn it, when he heard his own words while he was saying them, it sounded too bloody expectant.

_"Besides, we had a deal, right?"_

lousy, lousy, lousy, fucking lousy. The reaction to this lame pickup line actually followed only a few seconds later. But for Mickey it felt like a goddamn eternity. And as retribution, his guts were twisting a little tighter at that moment. He didn't know that was possible, but hey, shit, there it was. Just a quick little second. Until finally Ian's eyebrows lifted and he pressed his lips together to moisturize them.

_"The deal, huh?"_

With just one corner of his mouth, the redhead gave Mickey Half of a smirk. A smirk that could have meant anything. And just when Mickey thought it couldn't get any…well, let´s call it _-worse-_ , Ian grabbed his arm and dragged him into the small crowd behind them. Ian's hand was big and his grip strong. Mickey thought he could feel the warmth of Ian's palm. But that wasn't really possible. He still had his damn fat winter jacket on. Nothing could get through it at all. Finally Ian's grip loosened and they stood in the corner of the room in front of one of the empty tables. To the right and left there were some guys standing, talking, one sang along to the currently playing song that was banging through the speakers. Some sort of techno nightclub crap.

_"Please take a seat, Mister....Mister who?"_

Ian pulled out one of the chairs and made a gesture for Mickey to sit down. A little perplexed but still skeptical, Mickey stared at his redheaded waiter.

_"Mickey. Just Mickey.“_

_"Okay, mister -Just Mickey-. Please hand me your jacket and take a seat, sir.“_

Mickey slipped out of his jacket and tried to look as casual as possible

_"Can we cut the clown shit, man. This is weird."_

He handed Ian the jacket.

_"Whatever the master wishes."_

Oh, God, how awkward. Mickey couldn't help but roll his eyes. While doing so he loosely sat down on the chair

_"Let me get us another drink, Mickey"_

Mickey shrugged his shoulders

_"As long as you don't come back in some frigging maiden costume."_

And there it was again. The biggest smile in freaking Chicago.Just as Ian was about to turn away, a stocky guy staggered in from the side and grabbed Ian's arm

_"Hey Ian, man. Hell of a party. Can you do me a favor?"_

_"Thanks, man. What do you need?"_

The guy pulled Ian down a little by his arm so that his mouth came up against his ear. Mickey watched the guy whisper something while Ian tried to follow the words with a tense look. No idea what the guy wanted, but shortly after that Ian gave a loud "ahhhhhh", as if he understood what the pushy and obviously buzzed guy wanted from him. Then Ian disappeared. Mickey watched the tipsy guy stagger away. After a few steps he stumbled briefly, but still had enough control over his balance to avoid a nosedive. Examining, Mickey's eyes wandered through the small crowd of people in the store. Nobody really paid attention to him. Everyone was somehow busy and most of all drunk. While he was mentally trying to relax, the music suddenly stopped. Only for a short moment, then a new song started to play. A pleasant, slow tone of a guitar The music was still loud, but this switch in sound was a blessing for Mickey's ears. It wasn't the kind of music he usually preferred, for God's sake no, it was some kind of cheesy cuddly pop-rock, but somehow it fit the ambience better, Mickey thought.

[What day is it ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[And in what month? ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[This clock never seemed so alive](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[ I can't keep up, and I can't back down ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[I've been losing so much time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[ 'Cause it's you and me ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[And all of the people with nothing to do ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

[Nothing to lose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzJikUFVxes)

Mickey saw Ian coming from the counter back to their table. Two new bottles of beer in his hand. On the way he was stopped several times by some dancing guests. People shouted anything to him, patted him on the shoulder or just laughed at him. Ian obviously was a popular guy and knew the majority of the guests. And when people talked to him, he didn't get upset or nervous. He laughed with the people, he made grimaces and gave a casual impression. He was the complete opposite of Mickey.

When Ian sank into the chair next to Mickey, he moaned with relief.

_"I don't think I've sat on my ass for a minute in hours."_

_"You work here, man. Besides, you seem to be a pretty wanted guy."_

Ian's gaze wandered briefly through the room.

_"Yeah, it's kind of funny. When my sister bought this place and told us what she was up to, I laughed at her. And suddenly I start learning how to make latte art and organize gay parties. Crazy, huh?"_

_"Ya sister owns this place?"_

Nodding Ian sips from his beer

_"Yeah, Fiona was lucky, came into money, invested it the right way and now this store here. You met her. The first time you came here the other day."_

Mickey thought for a moment. The day he met Ian. Right. The brunette yeller. But Mickey just refused to talk about Ian's sister. He wanted to know more about the smoking hot ginger guy. By now he had made friends with the feeling in his belly. After all that beer and thanks to Ian's open mind, it wasn't so hard and exhausting anymore. Damn, somehow he even liked it at that moment, even though he didn't really know why he felt that way.

_"Yes, remember. But the more important thing is, what the hell is latte art?!"_

For this question he received a critical look.

_"If you'd order other than fucking black coffee, I'd show you."_

_"Jesus Christ, Red, when I read your menu, it gives me PD.I don't know what the fuck any of this shit is."_

"Did you just call me Red?"

That question didn't sound startled, offended or angry. It sounded much more teasing. Without success, Mickey tried to hide his smirk.

_"Yeah, any problem with that, Red?"_

It was like lan did it on purpose. He practically pierced his eyes into Mickey's soul while he took the last sip of his beer and placed the bottle back on the table in front of him

_"Not at all, Mick"_

\---

Time flew by and slowly but steady the number of people in the store decreased. A small candle, which had been on the table all evening and flickered discreetly between Ian and Mickey, had already died out. Several empty beer bottles were left on the table. Mickey felt mildly cheerful after the approx 5 beers he had already drunk that evening. But basically 5 beers were nothing. Mickey had spent many evenings drinking much heavier shit. A voice interrupted Mickey in his thoughts. From the doorway, two guys called out to Ian to let him know they wanted to leave. These had been the last guys who left the store. Ian sighed,

_"Shit, man, I better clean this place up."_

He pulled himself up from his seat and staggered briefly on the spot. He rubbed his face with both hands.

_„Damn, I shouldn't have drunk so much."_

Not so much? In the last hours Ian had literally sipped on 2 bottles of beer. However, when Mickey looked at Red Riding Hood he had no doubt. The guy was hammered out of his mind. He watched sceptically as Ian strolled to the counter to turn off the music. He was basically running in a zigzag and almost fell twice on his short walk.

_"Hey man, slow down Ian."_

Mickey got up from his chair and followed Ian, who was leaning against the counter to take a break. Mickey ran past him, behind the counter and turned off the music.

"You hardly drank anything. How can you be so out of it?"

No answer.

Ian had put both arms on the counter and buried his head in it so that his face couldn't be seen. Was he serious?

"Yo, Red. You still alive?"

No answer.

Hesitantly, Mickey put one hand on Ian's shoulder and shook gently. Ian muttered something incomprehensible.

_"Yo, man, you can't sleep now!"_

When Ian still showed no reaction Mickey shook a little stronger. A loud snort and Ian got up from the counter with the grace of a beetle that fell on its back.

_"Shit, I'm wasted"_

Indeed he was. And holy crap, Ian looked like a stoned, giant puppy. His look was so gentle with a faint smile in the corners of his mouth. And he stared at Mickey. What now?

a) Fuck it Mickey, just get your ass home

b)Fuck it Mickey, help puppy eyes to find his way home

Mickey grabbed his jacket, which he spotted on a coat stand in the corner

_"Okay Red. I suggest you gimme the key to the place, I'll lock this shithole for you and then we'll get your wasted ass in your bed, huh?"_

Ding, ding, ding. The candidate has chosen answer b. You will find out whether this answer is correct after a short intermission.

Fucking advertising. What the hell. He couldn't just leave Ian here in that condition. Don't panic Mickey! Ian rummaged in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small bunch of keys

_"That sounds like a great plan"_

Mickey took the keys and Ian waddled out to the exit in front of him. He turned off the light and locked the door behind him.

_"Shit, God damn it's cold."_

Ian literally chattered his teeth and rubbed his arms. Over his almost naked arms, because he was still only wearing his shirt.

_"Why the hell aren't you wearing a jacket?"_

_"Fiona took me over here earlier. Probably left it in her car"_

It was the middle of winter, there was snow everywhere and Ian had decided to leave his jacket somewhere in a car. Great.

_"How far do we have to walk to your place?"_

_"I don't know. Southside... maybe 20, 30 minutes?"_

Jesus Christ. Enough time to freeze to a cube of ice along the way. Mickey sighed. Answer b was definitely the more challenging version.

_"Okay, plan has changed. Please try to keep your friggin' balance for the next five minutes and just follow me."_

Ian did not question what the change of plan involved. He was too busy chattering his teeth and moving in a straight line, which honestly didn't work very well. It was the middle of November. It was damn cold. It was the first time Mickey Milkovich would have an overnight guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is ready for a pj party next week? :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! A sign of life!  
> I wanted to post this chapter 2 weeks ago... but unfortunately, as it happens, you have much less time than you thought you had. 
> 
> Well. After the last chapter I talked about a PJ party.Maybe...so...I don't know...oh you know what...you'll just figure it out yourself.

Mickey Milkovich was used to the fact that most of the time things didn't quite go according to plan.

For example, once shithead Terry had a phase where he thought he could make loads of money transporting drugs for some cartel. His old man had gotten him involved in his crummy business at an early age. He always said his plans were foolproof. And he emphasized that he always had a plan B ready in case something went wrong. It always turned out that plan B was mostly Mickey. Screw Terry's plans. They were as safe as a passenger on the maiden voyage of the fucking Titanic. Mickey ended up in juvie several times. Since plan B meant that Mickey had to cover the old man's ass.

_"Don't worry, son, you're still a minor. Those bastards can't get your balls as hard as they can get mine. I'd spend a lot of years in here. You'll be out of here in a few months."_

At 16, Mickey thought Terry was right. It was the practical solution. Today Mickey knew that his piece-of-shit dad was nothing more than a selfish, homophobic Nazi asshole who didn't care much more about anything than himself and his screwed up moral values. After Mickey had left his father's house, these things stopped happening to him. Well, at least not that much anymore and most importantly, unexpected twists of events never ended up getting him in jail. Mostly it was his own social incompetence. It was in fact usually just those damned nasty situations where he couldn't find the right words or where he was ashamed for unknown reasons. Okay, not completely unknown. Terry was always the answer. But damn it, Terry was gone. In jail. And even if he ever made it out, Mickey was gone too. He had his own little apartment away from his fucked-up childhood.

But in his apartment, apart from the cold, crappy world out there, absolutely nothing went as scheduled. What had been the original plan? Oh yes, netflix, more beer, the couch and Mickey. He had thought that if he drank himself into a state of coma tonight, he might sleep for more than an hour. Maybe the alcohol would numb him and he wouldn't be able to get lost in his usual nightmare. Wouldn't have to wake up all sweaty and walk around the next day with dark circles under his eyes as large as the fucking Grand Canyon. He thought this time it might work.

Instead, there was this drunk, useless, goddamn hot redhead sitting on his couch. Ian had followed Mickey into the apartment without a single word. He had pulled off his shoes in the small corridor, left them in the middle of the way and stumbled straight towards the couch. Half sitting, half lying, he squinted at Mickey. On his freckled arms, the goose bumps from the cold outside were still visible. Mickey couldn't help himself. He thought all those freckles on Ian's body were beautiful. Damn, that sounded totally lame, but he could have stared at Ian forever. As if the fucking Picasso himself had perfected this well-constructed body with a few orange tinted brushstrokes. An unknown painting only Mickey knew about.

On the back of the couch lay a blanket, folded up. Almost automatically he reached for it and threw it to Ian

_"Here Olaf, try this."_

Surprisingly, Ian reacted and caught the blanket. Mickey had firmly expected it to hit Ian's head.

_"Thanks, Anna."_

With a cheeky grin, Ian wrapped himself in the blanket and gave a satisfied sigh. A satisfied small burrito. Okay, not really small. Whatever.

_"I just saved your ass from freezer burn. No chick references, Red."_

Ian started giggling quietly into the blanket.

_"You know, it's just...there's this guy and he's got fuck u-up tattooed on his ankles and he makes this frozen reference when you don't expect it."_

The giggle slowly turned into a real laugh

_"Fuck you, freckles, I ain't doing the dick sucking program for Netflix."_

That was one of the classic situations Mickey would have gotten upset about. But it didn't feel that way at all. Ian laughed and in his enthusiasm he seemed to melt more and more into Mickey's blanket. And Mickey knew that Ian laughed at him but he didn't actually care. In fact, what Freckles was saying about him sounded kinda bizarre. Not that Mickey remembered much of the movie. He hadn't been watching very carefully and every time one of the stupid characters on TV started singing, he had muted the sound. It had just been one of the many sleepless nights. By now, Mickey had slept so little that he had watched practically every movie available on Netflix at least once. Not that he had checked it, but by guess it must have been like that. While Mickey, lost in thoughts, grabbed a beer from the fridge, the chuckle behind him stopped. Mickey turned around to ask Ian if he wanted to drink anything. No beer of course. But it wasn't going to be anything else either, since Mickey had to realize that Ian had spontaneously fallen asleep. Jesus, how could you still be awake one second, laughing out your fucking lungs and the next you fell into a deep slumber?

_"Hey"_

The second time that evening Mickey was about to shake Ian out of his nap. Actually, Mickey had thought about letting Ian have his bedroom, which he never used himself. That was the only good option, because otherwise Mickey would have to take the bedroom, and he would have no TV, no fridge...nothing at all to pass the hours until dawn. Just a narrow slit Ian opened his eyes and glanced at Mickey.

_"Man, you should get your tired ass in bed. I'm taking the couch."_

Ian made no effort to get up. Instead, he perfected his position on the couch by curling up like a fetus and pulling the blanket even more into his face

_"No, everything's great."_

he murmured and disappeared back into the Land of Dreams. It was surprising how small this tall guy managed to curl up. Sighing, Mickey grabbed the beer he had left on the kitchen counter and sat down carefully on the only free spot on the sofa next to Ian's head. Mickey took the remote from the table and turned on the TV. In a hurry he pressed the volume buttons to avoid waking up Ian. Hardly hearable the TV flickered in front of him. Bored, Mickey zapped through the channels, not knowing what he was looking for. After endless, stupid pressing the button, Mickey decided that Cartoon Network was the best solution. But Mickey didn't really pay much attention to the program at all. Instead, his eyes fell on the curled up Ian next to him. Ian's breath was slow but regular. Peaceful. No idea how much time went by. Different thoughts rushed through his head while his gaze rested on the same spot. When Mickey saw Ian for the first time, he never thought that this handsome-looking Ginger would be sleeping on his couch a few days later. Not in the slightest did he think of this scenario. You could say that Mickey Milkovich is more of a shy person. Well, maybe not shy exactly, but making new contacts was never easy for him. Mickey had no idea how he had to start talking to someone for the first time. What do you say? How do you have to act? Those were things Mickey hadn't learned on the Southside. Somehow it was not necessary. Milkoviches have always had a certain kind of image. Not a good one. However, people always knew who you were in some way. The Milkovich kid. Terry's boy. Dirty, with too big a mouth, always ready to steal your lunch money and say goodbye with a polite "fuck off" on the lips. A rowdy, a troublemaker...Someone you'd rather stay away from. People from the neighborhood had never stopped looking at Mickey in this way. But Mickey was not like that anymore. At least not quite. Of course, if you wanted to mess with him, Mickey wouldn't accept any crap. Even today he would still tell you you can go fuck yourself and yes goddamn shit, he wouldn't have any problem with punching a stupid asshole in the face, but the times were over when Mickey would steal some shit at the _Kash and grab_ or do whatever Terry wanted him to do. Mickey had grown calmer. He noticed his eyes getting heavier. Mickey took the last sip of his beer and put it on the table. A short yawn and he sank down in the sofa. And Mickey dozed off. But it didn't took long for the bitterly familiar nightmare to wake him up from his sleep. How long had he been asleep? An hour maybe? The TV was still flickering. And Mickey had sunk deeper into the couch. And there was something warm. Sleepy, he lifted his head slightly and blinked into the darkness. Through the faint light from the TV he recognized it. Holy shit, seriously? Mickey was too tired to worry about it at all. But what he saw there was even more bizarre than the fact that the guy from the coffee store was sleeping in his living room. Because it was the guy from the coffee store who slept in Mickey's living room, with his head on Mickey's lap. A hand also touched Mickey's thigh. Mickey could feel Ian slowly breathing out again and again. The warm breath went through his pants. Normally Mickey would have felt uncomfortable about that. But it was so warm. And a swarm of wild butterflies raged through the pit of his stomach. It tickled and it was warm. That was the last thing Mickey knew before he fell asleep again.

7:25

That was the time when Mickey opened his eyes. Outside there wasn't much daylight when he realized he was lying on the couch. Something was different. Regularly, when Mickey woke up in the morning, he still felt tired. But he didn't feel tired. It was cozy and warm and he felt like he could get up now and change the world. However the fuck he was supposed to do that. But he had the energy for it. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and sat up. It took a moment for his hard drive to boot up completely. Just a moment. There was something missing. He was alone on the sofa. It was quiet in the room. His eyes wandered across. Nothing. From the sofa he could look into the tiny corridor and see that only his own shoes were still in front of the door. Was Ian fucking serious? He gets completely wasted, let Mickey take him home, sleeps on Mickey's couch and snuggles up a little in Mickey's lap, but the next day he's too fucking fine to say goodbye?! With a grim expression on his face, Mickey got up from the couch to find something for breakfast. What was the guy thinking? He could have at least put _> Thanks<_ on a fucking post-it on the fridge. Or was ist more like _ >What kind of stupid motherfucker are you, Mickey Milkovich?!< _One that really thought a guy like that might be interested in Mickey? Haha. Good joke, Mickey. You fucked yourself. His thoughts stopped when he took a look at the kitchen table.

What the fuck?

There was a small pile of fragments on the table. White porcelain with some green on it. One of the pieces was still big enough to recognize Michaelangelo's orange blindfold. When Mickey was little, he had simply drunk everything from this cup. His mom had bought it for him because he loved to watch the Turtels on TV. Actually Mickey always wanted the red turtle because he was much cooler. At least that's what the 4 year old Mickey thought. But in the end it didn't matter. This mug was one of the few things Mickey took from his parents' house. And there it was. Broken into many small pieces. One of the few pleasant memories, shattered into 100 very fine pieces. Mickey had had the cup on the table for a few days. He hadn't used it since the coffee machine stopped working. Had Ian dropped it? It must have happened that way. Mickey would have remembered... no, Mickey would never have dropped the damn cup.

Cursing, Mickey grabbed the trash can and dumped the shards from his table. It wouldn't help to get sentimental at this point. The cup was broken. Stupid asshole! The shrill sound of the doorbell prevented Mickey from continuing his search for food. Still cursing, he ran to the door With a quick jerk he opened and looked into a broad, dirty smile.

_"Mooornin' Mickey Mousy! What's up, sugar?"_

Why the goddamn hell was life like this for Mickey? Wasn't it enough that he had imagined he could maybe make friends with someone? Or that his favorite fucking cup was ruined? Wasn't it enough that he was already pissed off about various things so fucking early in the morning? No, of course not. Of course Cole, the cocksucker from the apartment next door had to stand in front of Mickey's door right now and smile at him dumbly.

_"How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?!"_

Cole made a dismissive gesture and shook his head like a rabid bobble Head dog. It sounded fake when he laughed

_"Oh, honey, don't be such a bitch. I know you love me too."_

rolling his eyes, Mickey scratched his temple, rather subconsciously

" _Okay, it's definitely too fucking early for this shit. The fuck do ya want?“_

The grin on Cole's face was now clearly visible again. With one hand he brushed his light blond hair to the side. Cole most likely had Asian roots. But Mickey had never asked about it. Basically, he had never wanted anything from Cole at all. The guy had literally forced himself on him and had been coming by Mickey's place every now and then since Mickey moved into this apartment. Sometimes he asked for eggs he had forgotten while shopping, sometimes he brought Mickey cake and sometimes he just stood in front of Mickey's door and talked some bullshit Mickey wasn't interested in. Cole was actually quite okay. Well, he hadn't bothered Mickey, it was just...Cole was a fucking fag. Granted, Mickey also appreciated a nice piece of man-ass, but fuck, why did he need to be dressed like that? He might as well have had "homo" tattooed on his forehead. At least that would look more decent than all his outfits. And he moved that way...Mickey couldn't explain it, but from the way Cole moved you could also see that he had some huge dicks in his ass regularly. And now the guy was once again standing in front of Mickey's door and just didn't get to the point.

_"Well, what can I say, Mousy. I saw that nice piece of ass walk out your door this morning. Who was the pretty one, huh?"_

_"What the... Are you serious? None of your fucking business, shithead!"_

Cole rolled with his eyes. It also looked like he was preparing a dramatic scene for a theater role.

_"Don't act so gloomy all the time, honey. It makes your skin age. Not beautiful at all!"_

_"Yeah, yeah, anything else, Barbie?"_

A desperate sigh made its way out of Cole's mouth.

_"Well. If you don't want to tell me anything about your hot night..."_

he paused dramatically and fluttered his eyelashes

_"...then I thought you might want to join me for breakfast. I know a great place and I haven't been there in ages. You MUST try the bagels there, Mickey. A perfect poem. And they make a great soy latte!"_

_"Soy latte my ass, Cole. Not in the mood. Is that all?"_

Cole shook his head. Visibly uncomprehending.

_"Okay, whatever you say, honey. I'm gonna go freshen up, and then I'll be on my way."_

Really offended, Cole turned away from Mickey and headed back to his own apartment next door

_"If you change your mind, you can just ring my doorbell."_

he remarked as he disappeared. Mickey slammed the door without comment. What did he actually want? Right! Breakfast. Alone. Mickey's breakfast included a bottle of beer and the last bowl of Lucky Charms, which he got out of the package with the creepy grinning leprechaun. Sure, it wasn't very healthy at that time of the day, but Mickey was not one of those health-loving, smoothie-drinking morons. As long as he felt good, he saw no reason to change anything in his lifestyle. And somehow he was more and more tending to self-destruction when he was pissed off. And Mickey was very pissed off today.He wasn't sure anymore if he was pissed at himself or at Ian. Did Ian actually owe him anything? After all, he hadn't asked for Mickey's help. Mickey had simply felt that he had to take care of Ian in this situation. Who else would have done it? Besides, the two hardly knew each other. So Mickey was mad at himself because he thought he could now expect some kind of return from Ian? Recognition? Or was the anger he had first felt justified? In the end, the jerk still broke his favorite cup. And he didn't even have the decency to secretly throw it into the garbage...no he just left the smashed turtle on the table. Whatever. Probably it was pointless to think about it any further. He just had to accept the situation. He lit a cigarette and started to put his empty bowl into the sink. He didn't feel like doing the dishes now and was about to fall back on his couch to spend the day there when he was interrupted by the doorbell once again. Annoyed and with the cigarette in the corner of his mouth he hurried to the door. Damn Cole. What was so hard to understand about no? Mickey reached for the doorknob and with a sudden pull he opened it

_"Holy shit, I don't want your fucking soy latte. What the fu--"_

What the fuck? That wasn't Cole standing there at his door to be a pain in the ass again. Instead, he looked into the perplexed eyes of Ian. He had changed, was wearing a thick jacket and had a backpack on his shoulders. His hair was wet, as if he had walked miles through the worst storm ever. Mickey's heart took a little jump and he fell silent.

_"Well... actually this isn't a soy latte."_

Ian stammered embarrassed and lifted two paper cups with lids into the air. Mickey could immediately smell the coffee to go in Ian's hands.

_"I was expecting someone else..."_

_"So... am I coming at a bad time? No problem, I can leave as well."_

Ian just stood there, insecure. Yeah, he said he was leaving, but instead he waited for a reaction from Mickey. However, Mickey was not sure how to react. The situation took him by surprise. Until a moment ago he was still pissed off and now he had to pull himself together, not grinning like an idiot. He did not want to grin. Fucking Ginger could know that Mickey felt like a fool, but instead...

_"No, it's okay. You wana come in or just stand there the rest of the day?"_

A faint smile appeared on Ian's lips as he walked past Mickey and entered the apartment. For a brief moment there was an uncomfortable silence. It was only a few seconds, but Mickey's head was filled with several different sentences that he didn't know which one to actually say.

Why did you leave without a freaking word? Why'd you break my cup? Is it so fucking hard to say thank you for all the help ? And what was your head doing in my lap? Just tell me what all this was about. How am I supposed to fucking feel about it?

But Mickey didn't utter any of these phrases. Instead, Ian took the floor.

_"Okay, Mick. All that shit yesterday... I acted like a fucking idiot. I'm really sorry. It's just...I'm on medication and when I drink alcohol I'm pretty much useless after a few minutes. I should have known my limits."_

Not what Mickey wanted to hear. This wasn't about Ian being totally drunk. That wasn't the problem at all. Did Ian really think so?

_"You're apologizing for that? You think that's the problem?"_

_"Well, 'cause I don't think it's normal for a guy who doesn't even know me to babysit me and let me sleep on his couch."_

He was probably right about that. Probably wasn't normal. Still, it wasn't Mickey's fucking problem.

_"Oh, yeah, you think? I think everything that happens after that part of the story is much more questionable. You think I never had too much booze and then lay in some corner afterwards?"_

Ian shrugged.

_"Okay, then we're cool?"_

Cool? Mickey couldn't believe that this moron just didn't want to see what the real problem was. Huge, stupid, hot, oh, my God, those puppy-dog eyes, dumbass.

_"No, we're not. How about you tell me why you just ran off? You come here, sleep on my couch, think it's a good idea to park your fat head in my lap and the next morning you disappear without a word and destroy my stuff on top of it?“_

Okay. There it was. Now he had opened his huge mouth after all. Shit. The part with the fat head is something he actually wanted to skip. Well, too late. Finally, Ian placed the two coffee cups on Mickey's living room table and let his backpack sink from his shoulder onto the couch

_"I guess I thought you'd probably just be glad to avoid seeing my dumb face this morning as the first thing. Plus, I had to clean up at the store and you were sleeping so soundly, I... well, I guess I didn't want to disturb you..."_

Slept so soundly. Indeed. Why didn't he think about it before? Mickey remembered this one time last night when he woke up. It was a brief moment. And after that, he just slept. For several hours. Sure, there was still potential for improvement, but sleeping for more than an hour at a time was a challenge that Mickey hadn't overcome for what felt like an eternity. But last night he had made it. Just like that.

_"…and... and I didn't want to turn on the light. It was damn dark when I stumbled through your apartment and I guess the damn cup fell off the table. I didn't want to cause any more trouble, so I didn't touch anything else…“_

Finally, it looked as if Ian was running out of answers. Thank God, he ignored the part with the fat head. Mickey didn't have to think long. Somehow it made sense what Ian told him. Besides, there he was, right in front of Mickey's face in Mickey's living room, and in fact, Mickey was happy about it. At least the butterflies in his stomach kept doing a little dance of joy.

_"Next time, just turn on the damn light."_

Within a second, Ian's mien turned into the familiar broad grin.

_"There'll be a next time?"_

_"Fuck off!"_

With an sarcastic smile, Mickey gave Ian his middle finger. Ian ploped down on Mickey's couch and grabbed one of the coffee cups on the table

_"I gratefully accept your invitation, Milkovich."_

_"Congratulations. I am glad you were able to read the name tag on the doorbell, Einstein"_

Mickey picked up the remaining coffee cup and started drinking

"Oh, that reminds me--"

Ian reached for his backpack and started looking for something inside.

_"I brought you something."_

Sceptically, Mickey took another sip of the coffee. Finally the redhead had found what he was looking for. Mickey recognized a black object. He sat down next to Ian on the sofa and tried to see what the item in his hand was.

_"Okay, I thought it might be a little compensation for breaking yours..."_

With a soft smile on his face, Ian handed him... a mug. It was completely black. A huge cobweb was printed on the cup and in the middle of this cobweb was Spiderman starring at Mickey.

_"You bought me a mug?"_

A little chuckle was part of the answer

_"Well, actually my brother Carl stole it a few years ago and gave it to me for my birthday. It's yours."_

Mickey had to grin when he looked at the gift. He didn't exactly know why. He had never been a huge Spiderman fan and besides it was just a stupid mug. But still he grinned.

_"Guys in fucking tights give me the creeps, man"_

Ian frowned in disbelief

_"Dude, are you telling me you wouldn't celebrate being Spiderman and swinging through town on your spider threads? That's pretty crazy shit."_

_"Why the fuck would anyone wear tights for this?!"_

This conversation went on for a while. Ian was a big dork. But in a good way. Mickey kept laughing. And Ian laughed as well. The two teased each other, tried to make fun of each other over and over again. And Mickey loved to watch Ian laugh. Sometimes he made a really stupid face...and he still looked so fucking handsome. At some point the subject changed. Suddenly it was all about music and how terrible Mickey had found some of the songs that were played in the Coffee Club. Later on Ian finally told him his last name. Gallagher. Ian Gallagher. And when Mickey closed the door behind Ian in the early evening, he felt strange. Ian had told him that he had to take the early shift the next day and so they said goodbye to each other. For a while that night, Mickey just sat at his kitchen table and looked at the black cup Ian had left for him. Cigarette smoke swirled around his head like cold fog. Mickey searched his mind for the right words for what was going on inside him. But it was confusing and he couldn't explain it.

All Mickey Milkovich knew was that it tickled when he thought of Ian Gallagher. It tickled all over his body and he had to smile. On the one hand he felt like a fool for sitting alone in his apartment with a big smile for no reason. But there was also this other side. The comforting warmth that crept through his body. Fuck, Mickey wanted to lock that feeling inside of him forever. He never wanted to stop feeling that way. Like a junkie always feeling like he never had enough. Mickey didn't know exactly how long he was sitting in his kitchen that night, lost in his thoughts. And his thoughts didn't lead him to any particular result.

All Mickey knew that night was that he somehow liked Ian Gallagher. Yes, Mickey Milkovich likes Ian Gallagher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ♥
> 
> What do you think about me making Cole Mickey's neighbor?   
> I always like it when there are a few other people in FF than just Gallavich :P And I liked Cole. I liked him so much. I would have loved to see more of him. Since we unfortunately didn't get more, I take over this honourable task from now on ^^
> 
> Since my story starts at the end of the year, in winter, we will start to set up a a bit of Christmas spirit next time. I hope you like that :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe no one expected it anymore, but yes, here it continues.  
> I'm just damn slow at writing and actually have way too little time for this. But I still want to finish this project. No matter how long it takes.
> 
> In this chapter, I introduce you to a new character.  
> Maybe you don't like her, we'll see. She is in any case something special and will join us more often. 
> 
> One more thing: Because I'm so slow, there is a little christmas-content in this chapter...and in the next one too.Christmas unfortunately has passed ...just barely missed it, lol. I hope that's still okay :) 
> 
> And if anyone is really still reading this: Thank you ♥

Can you have insomnia all your life just because you are dissatisfied with your life? Was Mickey actually dissatisfied? Since he no longer lived under the same roof with Terry, he always thought he was doing well. He had a job, though not the best, enough money to pay for the roof over his head, buy food...He's even had enough for his netflix account. Granted, Mickey didn't really have any hobbies or a lot of friends. In fact, he didn't have any friends at all. There was Cole. Fucking Cole. Even though Mickey treated him like shit all the time, that guy knocked on Mickey's door every now and then, just so Mickey could send him away in a huff. Apart from that? Carlos was simply a work colleague. The two never had anything to do with each other outside of their work hours.Carlos was nice to Mickey, but shit, the guy was old and busy with his husband, the single-family house, wine tastings, and all that crap.

Anyway, the last few nights Mickey had been able to find a few hours of sleep every now and then. It was more than he had ever dreamed of. And the only change in his life was Ian Gallagher. Ian fucking Gallagher.

Mickey opened the door to the employee area of the mall and heard the raspy voice of Mr. Wright, his boss, down the hall where the locker room area was.

_"This is your locker, if you lose the key we'll charge you $20 to have a replacement made"._

Mickey hated that son of a bitch. He was a fat little dude who barely had any hair left, was constantly walking around with a clipboard in his hand, and had nothing better to do than eat donuts all day and bust his coworkers' balls. In addition, there was always some kind of food residue on his shirt because he was too stupid to eat like a normal person. Mickey had watched him ram his disgusting mouth into a donut or sandwich plenty of times. And then he either had powdered sugar or tartar sauce hanging from the corner of his mouth. The worst thing about it was that the guy never wiped his food remains from his face. And then, when Mr. Wright was in the mood to make some crappy speech about work hours, break times, or whatever other stuff, Mickey couldn't help but stare at the disgusting corner of his mouth. He hadn't paid much attention to hygiene himself for quite some time in his life. Holes in his socks, dirt on his face, and mud on his pants were every day things when you grew up on the Southside of Chicago. But fucking shit, eating like a pig on the edge of a heart attack and having the remnants of it stuck to your face was a different dimenson. Especially if you were one of the owners of that fucking temple of commerce and had a shitload of money.

_"Ahh Mr. Milkovich, there you are finally."_

was the greeting as Mickey strolled to his locker. Mr. Wright stood on the other side of the room with a young woman. She was skinny, her hair was shoulder length and blonde. Quite a bit of makeup on her face, but it couldn't hide the fact that she didn't feel like standing next to the fat asshole. Without waiting for a reaction from Mickey, the stocky man pointed to the woman next to him

_"This is Mrs. Winter. She has her first day at our mall today, as we have decided to hire more staff. Unfortunately, we still have a large number of thefts here in the mall. Apparently you can really use some assistance, can't you?!"_

No suprise, fatso. This damn place is huge and has several floors and you think two people per floor could keep an eye on everything going on in this shithole? Mickey would have liked to say it, instead he rolled his eyes inconspicuously

_"Great, Mr. Wright."_

Self-deprecatingly, he nodded and literally rolled toward the exit

_"I've already given Mrs. WInter her uniform and shown her the staff area. This week you will train the new colleague and teach her what you know. Whatever that is, Mr. Milkovich."_

By the time he finished the sentence, the door had already slammed shut behind him and he was gone. Thank God. Mickey eyed the pretty blonde for a moment and was about to say something, but she was quick to step in front of him

_"Okay, Shorty. Let's save the bullshit formalities. For you, I'm Summer. I'm not interested in this hellhole, but my parents have decided that I should have a job. So here I am. But don't expect me to do anything big, because I still have my dad's credit card and I plan to spend my days here shopping. So I'm going to change now and then we'll get this damn week of babysitting over with, all right?"_

What the hell? Shorty? Credit card? Shopping? And above all, and at this Mickey had to grin mockingly, Summer Winter? What kind of stupid ass name was that, for God's sake?

_"Okay, Barbie. Calm down, okay. I don't give a flying fuck if you're going to work here or if you're going to paint your shitty fingernails all day. I'll be just as happy as you are when this infernal week is over. So how about you get your ass in those clothes and just follow me around for the rest of the day. Preferably with your clams closed. Thank you!"_

Annoyed, Mickey turned to his locker to change himself. However, he couldn't resist adding another sentence to his speech

_"What the crap kind of name is Summer Winter, anyway."_

Both had their backs turned and from the sounds behind him, Mickey could tell that the blonde brat had opened her locker to change. Sucks for her. In fact, she was the first woman Mickey was now unfortunately allowed to call colleague. For this reason, there were never separate locker rooms in this building. But Mickey wasn't interested in watching the skinny bitch change her clothes anyway.

_"You know, dwarf. I appreciate your direct, open nature. Seems like we're on the same page. I like it."_

She sounded arrogant.

_"Still, I'm fine with us not having to talk a lot. Being seen with you, and especially being seen in that ugly second hand outfit, could damage my reputation. So let's get the job done."_

She slammed her locker shut and leaned against the wall next to Mickey, annoyed. She eyed him up and down as he changed his shirt.

_"Mickey, huh?"_

With a cursory movement of her head, she pointed to the name tag on Mickey's shirt.

_"Let me tell you something dwarf: my name is not stupid. Summer because I'm obviously pretty hot and Winter represents my cold heart. So you watch your mouth around me from now on, or this Barbie will make you another inch shorter than you already are."_

Terrific. A lazy, arrogant and spoiled brat with way too big a mouth.

_"Fuck off!"_

That was all Mickey replied and pushed past her in the narrow hallway. Could the day get any more "great“ ?

\----------------

Hours had passed, during which Mickey, followed by his lovely new colleague, wandered through the mall. It was a day like any other, where nothing much happened. In a boutique, he had to throw a horny teenage couple half-naked out of one of the changing rooms. Summer took particular amusement in this and snapped some photos of the exposed couple

"Hashtag coitus interruptus" she had laughed spitefully while taking one picture after another. Besides that, there were just a couple of kids trying to steal toy guns, a homeless guy who had pissed his pants, and a confused old lady unable to find the exit. While Mickey did his job, Summer had spent most of her time typing on her cell phone. Mickey was glad when his shift was over and he finally left the mall for this day. Summer left the building right behind him She stretched as if she had just gotten out of bed and took a deep breath of the cool winter air

_"Thank God, that was tiring"_

she sighed, and right after that she let out an artificial yawn. Mickey rolled his eyes and made his way to the coffee club without comment. Ian would be off work in half an hour and Mickey used to spend as much time as he could there when Ian had to work. Whenever he was with Ian, Mickey felt warm. It was a pleasant warmth from within that prickled in his body. At first, this feeling inside Mickey made him nervous and barely able to speak a single sentence. But the more time he spent with Ian, the more comfortable the feeling became. And fuck, by now he was enjoying it. It made him happy somehow. The doorbell rang as Mickey opened the door to the coffee club. Along with the sound, Mickey's heart made a small but noticeable leap in his chest. Ian was standing behind the counter, busy giving change to a customer on the other side of the counter. It was cute how he strenuously looked into the cash register, fished out a few coins and counted them again in his palm before handing them to the elderly guy in front of him. The redhead smiled a friendly goodbye to the customer while his gaze wandered over to Mickey, who had now almost reached the counter. And it didn't slip Mickey's attention how Ian's friendly smile turned into a broad shine

_"Yo, Gallagher!"_

Mickey greeted him and automatically had to grin as well.

_"What's up, Milkovich?"_

was the response

_"If you know the hot coffee dude, can we get the coffee here for like cheaper or something?"_

What the? The grin disappeared from Mickey's face when he realized with dismay that Summer must have followed him and was standing behind him. Mickey had no idea why this stupid fashionista had followed him, and he didn't really care. He was looking forward to this. This was his safe zone and he didn't want to share it with this trashy makeup slut. That would simply ruin it. Bewildered, he watched as Summer strutted past him, leaning over the counter like a doe ready to mate. She rested her head on her palms and smiled meaningfully at Ian Holy shit. Mickey certainly didn't know much about girls, but this one had "I need a dick" written all over her forehead. On the one hand, Mickey wanted to rip her throat. The way she looked at the redhead made Mickey angry. It was a deep grumble in the pit of his stomach that created a heat inside him that he could only get rid of with harsh language or a punch in someone's fucking face. On the other hand, Mickey knew something that Summer didn't. Gay. Pretty sure. Not that Ian had ever told. But at least he hosted a gay party once a week at a damn coffee shop. And somehow he just was radiating it, too. It was the way he looked at Mickey, the way he grinned, the way he walked and talked. Or was Mickey just spinning it all in his head? Was it perhaps a delusion that kept him away from reality? He could just be an open-minded, nice straight guy who thought a gay party once a week was a good idea. Ahh, son of a bitch. Clueless. Mickey thoughts raced from gay to straight and back. He went over all the facts in his head and watched as Summer grinned a smug grin and ordered some kind of caramel coffee on ice shit. To Mickey's insecurity, Ian grinned back and, as if in a mute movie, he could no longer hear what they were saying. He only noticed how they both smiled, opened their mouths to speak and then laughed again. His thoughts were louder than their words. When Ian addressed the word right to Mickey, the sound was back as suddenly as it had disappeared

_"You didn't tell me you were bringing a friend, Mickey."_

Mickey tossed a cursory glance at Summer's direction.

" _Oh, that might be because I didn't know Barbie was coming after me."_

Mickey had not finished the words when Summer began to laugh loudly and artificially. She put her arm around Mickey and "accidentally" caught him in the back of the head with the palm of her hand. It was only a light slap.

_"Mickey is so funny, isn't he? A real clown."_

The shoer man broke free of Summer's grip and took a step to the side. Slightly irritated, Ian smiled at them both.

_"Hey, why don't you sit down, I'll take you everything to your seats."_

\----------------

_"Okay, we didn't get started very well, but can you just play along with this, please?"_

Mickey had made himself comfortable at one of the tables by the window. And sure enough, the new, lovely colleague had followed him and sat down across from him at the table. And now this. What the heck was that all about?

_"Look, I'm really getting tired of you. I've had enough of putting up with you at work."_

_"Come on gnome, don't be a killjoy. I haven't had good sex in a really long time, and your friend is hot."_

She bit her lower lip and cast a quick glimpse toward the counter. Of course. Mickey had expected something like that. And the chick really thought after this one hell of a day he'd owe her anything or some shit? Surely not.

_"Oh he's not into you sunshine, definitely not. And I wouldn't let anything like that happen."_

He gave her a provocative smile and got back an amused roll of the eyes.

_"Sure, a guy who's not into me. Earth to Gnome City: such a man has not been born yet!"_

Mickey was firmly convinced that he and this brat could argue and discuss for hours, days, and weeks. She would never shut her pie hole. Always gotta have the damn last word. Thank God Ian came over to the two of them with a tray and pulled up a chair from an nearby table so that he was sitting sideways between Mickey and Summer. Summer specifically reached for that caramel coffee shit. And Mickey had to admit, it looked damn tasty, even if he had no idea what it was exactly. She took a big sip from the straw and grinned contentedly

_"Perfect, that was just what I needed."_

As she put the cup back on the table in front of her, she eyed Ian with interest. Too much interest. Don't stare, bitch.

_"Okay, come on. Tell me what you're into."_

she directed the question to the redhead. Ian frowned with a weak grin

_"You mean…"_

But before he could finish his sentence the vogue girl already had her mouth open again and continued talking

_"I mean, what are you up to all day when you're not making coffee for gorgeous girls?"_

Was she serious? She could have ripped off her clothes and gotten "fuck me" tattooed on her forehead, that would be roughly the same level. Mickey watched the scene skeptically and thought he sensed Ian was a little uncomfortable with the situation.

_"Well, I don't know. Just regular shit I guess. Music, parties, going to the movies. Just stuff like that."_

_"Ohhh movies.What a funny happenstance. Tonight I'm going to the movie theater around the corner for the **scary christmas night.** They simply show trashy Christmas horror movies. Isn't that awesome. Why don't you join me?"_

_"Eh, I don't know, I think that's maybe..."_

Again she interrupted him

_"Great. I'll go home, get myself freshened up and meet you outside the movie theater in two hours."_

Cheerfully and with vigor, Summer got up from her seat,put $20 on the table and strutted out of the store with her cup in hand. Sighing, Ian leaned back in his chair and eyed Mickey

_"Quite the catching personality, huh?"_

Mickey shrugged his shoulders

_"What can I say. Congratulations?"_

A roll of his eyes and a strained look of consideration were the reaction The store door opened with a loud ring and another redhead entered.

_"Yo, Ian, hey douchebag, what's up?"_

Debbie didn't pay much attention to either of them, but moved straight behind the counter and began to take off her jacket. Ian stood up and put back the chair he had stolen from the table next to him

_"I guess that means my shift is over"_

_\----------------_

In the wintry cold, Mickey lit a cigarette. He was still standing outside the coffee club when Ian stepped out the door with his backpack.

_"Got another one?"_

he pointed to the cigarette in Mickey's mouth. Mickey tossed him the pack without comment and for a moment the two just stood in the cold, inhaling the cigarette smoke. Finally Ian broke the silence

_"Okay. You wanna hear the plan?"_

_"What plan?"_

Ian exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked at Mickey seriously

_"I'm going to go home and get ready for my date..."_

The way he pronounced the word _date_ sounded ironic and slightly annoyed. Mickey had to grin at that.

_"...and you do the same. And then we'll meet here later and go to that goddamn movie theater and watch those trashy Christmas movies."_

Wait, what had he just heard? Cinema, sassy blonde, Christmas movies...okay, some trashy Christmas horror, but what difference did it make. It didn't sound like one of Mickey's favorite pastimes.

_"Wait a minute, ya want me to go with ya?"_

Ian stared into nothingness for a tiny moment, as if he was thinking. Then nodded and gave Mickey a mean grin.

_"Yeah, sure. She's your friend. You got me into this, so the least you can do is help me get through it."_

Friend? So after this brief but bizarre scenario, would anyone think Mickey and this walking fury were friends? More likely, hell would freeze over.

_"Dude, you serious? That chick is no friend. New colleague. And she's awful. It's not my fault she likes to be mounted by you, dumbass!"_

It seemed like Ian was just imagining what that would be like, he grimaced in disgust

_"That' s what she said?"_

_"Well, she was using slightly different words, but...yeah… yeah I think that's what she said."_

Ian sighed

_"Come on man, don't leave me hanging."_

It was one of those things Mickey definitely didn't want to do. He would rather be flayed alive than spend a minute of his free time with Summer. But he still had that feeling in the pit of his stomach. That quiet sizzle, like from campfires. And it told him to come along. For Ian.

_"You owe me for this, dickhead."_

He threw his cigarette butt into the snow and turned away to leave.

_"I'll see you later, Mick"_ Ian called after him and Mickey didn't know any better. Without turning around, he waved his middle finger up in the air in Ians direction. He was going to need a lot of booze to get through this night.

\----------------

About 4 hours later, Mickey's world was spinning in circles.

Up

down

left

right

forwards

backwards

He hadn't seen it coming, but there it was. And it was fucking great.

He'd met Ian outside the store as arranged, and was surprised to find that Ian seemed to have actually gotten all dolled up for the date. He had used some hair shit to style his red mane back. He smelled freshly showered and Mickey also got the impression Ian had dressed spiffily. He couldn't tell for sure, under the winter coat, but the shoes looked pretty damn clean and neat.

_"Oh, what's up. Ready to bang that chick?"_

he had playfully quipped when he arrived, earning a multitude of scowls from Ian in return. But no comment. Instead of getting drunk, Mickey had built himself a well-filled joint before he left home. He didn't smoke weed often. It was a kind of a secret weapon. With it, he would somehow endure anything. The world seemed a little easier for the moment when he was high. 

On the way to the movie theater, he shared the joint with Ian.

_"Just what I needed!"_

the tall guy had said, accepting the spliff gratefully and taking a satisfied puff. Together they reached the cinema a little earlier than necessary. Summer was not yet to be seen. In general, there were very few people on the streets. It was already after dark and the crappy "Scary Christmas trash night" didn't seem to find much of an audience. It was cold as shit. And through the pot Mickey felt the cold much more intensely than usual. But it was not that bad. He stood in front of this stupid movie theater, having long forgotten that they were waiting for the walking nightmare with tits, because Ian, who was obviously also shot into his own little world by the few puffs he had taken, stood in front of him and told him some random shit. Actually Mickey didn't know exactly what Ian was talking about. It often happened that his attention wandered when he was high. A single thought in his head was enough to miss several sentences of the conversation partner in reality. But Ian laughed and he made a silly expression. Mickey thought he could just stand like this forever. Freezing, in the dark, with the seeming smile of Ian Gallagher. But Mickey's wholesome world was finally shattered to a halt when a shrill voice rang out behind the two of them

_"Why did you bring the dwarf?"_

The walking nightmare.

Reality hit him hard, but he was relaxed and as the two turned around, Mickey grinned a wide smile at the blonde

_"I'm glad to see you too, Barbie."_

Summer eyed Ian and Mickey alternately with evil glances. She had visibly dolled herself up. Her long black winter coat was open and underneath she wore only a short black dress. No tights or any other crappy garment that would keep you warm in this weather. When Mickey looked at her, he practically got even colder than he already was. Ian stammered

_"Well, I thought it would be cool. 3 friends, bad movies...sounds like fun"_

Summer rolled her eyes in annoyance.

_"I thought you and I were having a little fun tonight. Fuck the dwarf and fuck the movies."_

Middle finger time. Discreet, from below, but she had earned the gesture. Ian took a deep breath and exhaled

_"Okay, look. You're a pretty girl, and I think I'm honored, but..."_

_"You think?! Fuck, you're a pretty lucky guy. So how about we skip all the shit around here that's getting on my nerves and go to my place?"_

Barbie was apparently really pissed and now she showed her true colors.

_"I'm gay."_

It was sudden and unexpected. Mickey knew it. He hadn't been mistaken. And Summer just stood there for a moment, staring with her mouth slightly open. Again her eyes passed between Ian and him. What would happen next? In Mickey's head, the blonde fury was already screeching so that the whole neighborhood would hear it. But it turned out differently. Summer laughed. She laughed loudly. And not only Mickey was irritated. He exchanged unsettled views with Ian. And after a few moments she stopped to catch breathe and her eyes were wet. Did this heartless monster just start crying? Did the cold bitch have feelings? But she smiled.

_"You know ..."_

she addressed the word to Ian

_"I just have shitty taste in men. They're either misogynist, psychopaths or both. And now gay is on the list too."_

She laughed again briefly. It sounded resigned.

_"I'm sorry to hear."_

Ian replied uncertainly, patting her gently but uncomfortably on the shoulder Summer shook her head.

_"It's not your fault. Who cares, let's go in there and watch those crappy movies. I'm freezing my ass off!"_

And they did.

And the three of them just laughed all evening.

These movies were really more than shitty. Ian had been sitting in the middle. Mickey on his right and Summer on his left. In between he and Summer whispered something to each other and giggled. And it wasn't long before Ian bent his head down to Mickey, his mouth close to Mickey's ear. Mickey could sense Ian's breath and it made him feel the blood literally coursing through his body. It was a statement to the rampaging snowman on the screen. That thing was a serial killer and when it wanted to get through a locked door, it would unceremoniously melt itself and flow as a puddle through the crack under the door, only to matrealize itself back inside the house. It was the most bullshit Mickey had seen in a long time and Ian whispered in his ear

_"Can you believe this shit?“_

before Ian had even finished the sentence, he burst into a soft giggle. The light exhale gave Mickey a little tingle. And surprisingly, the barely dressed blonde didn't get on his nerves at all that night. Since that moment outside the movie theater, Summer seemed to be a different person. She hadn't said much, but what she had said was enough to know that she must have had some real shit going on. The three of them shared a bucket of popcorn and at one point she had started throwing the popcorn at the two boys. Ian hadn't hesitated and had fired back. Finally Mickey had so much popcorn in his lap that he couldn't help but join the fight if he didn't want to drown in the sticky corn kernels.

As the credits rolled on the screen and the theater slowly started to lighten up again, Summer cheered loudly and applauded

_"Fuck, we survived this shit, guys!"_

\----------------

Back in the cold, the three smoked another cigarette together.

_"Hey, you want us to take you home or something?"_

Ian wanted to know from the shivering blonde. Shaking her head, Summer declined

_"No, it's fine. You two go home. I'll call for an Uber."_

Slowly and walking backwards she moved away from the two while still talking

_"I had fun with you guys. Even with you, dwarf. Maybe we'll do that kind of thing again."_

Mickey gave Summer the finger again. This time as a farewell and in a teasing way. She grinned and flipped him off as well.

_"You guys are really cute together, by the way."_

She disappeared.

Her last words still echoed in Mickey's head. He didn't know how to act now. How would lan react now? Holy crap, that' awkward. And although he hadn't made a clear decision about how he would act now, Mickey risked a look at Ian's face. And he saw two beautiful green eyes that studied him and a playful smile.

_"You have popcorn in your hair."_

Mickey was about to reach through his hair to remove the sticky shit from his head, but Ian already had his hand in Mickey's hair and was carefully picking out a single popcorn. Mickey had never been more sure than at that moment that his head was on fire. And he was sure as fuck that Ian had noticed. And so the two of them stood there. Maybe just a few seconds, maybe a few minutes. Mickey had no sense of time. They just stood there, looking at each other. Mickey's blood was rushing like a waterfall. Without taking his eyes off Mickey, Ian began to speak. He turned down his voice and spoke slowly

_"You know what?"_

Fuck no. It was that one moment when Mickey Milkovich didn't know anything. And he couldn't get a sound out, couldn't answer that question, and didn't know where that question would lead. So Mickey didn't say anything. He opened his mouth a little bit, indeed, but he had forgotten how to use his voice. However, it seemed that Ian didn't want to have an answer to this question. He bent down a little bit towards Mickey's face.

_"I think it's…- now or never."_

The redhead had a gleam in his eye and smiled gently. And then came the moment when Mickey's world turned. Ian's lips were cold from the icy winter air. Cold but soft. Slowly and hesitantly, Ian's bottom lip slid over Mickey's upper lip. Mickey thought his body would give in any second. He felt so weak, his knees were soft and a tickle in his stomach crept up through every single limb of his body. It wasn't possible to catch a clear thought and so Mickey just closed his eyes. Ian had put his hands on Mickey's shoulders. It was as if his grip was the only thing keeping Mickey from collapsing. And after a time that felt like an eternity and yet was way too short, they both released their lips from each other to catch their breath. Mickey opened his eyes again and could see almost every freckle on Ian's face. And he thought how beautiful Ian Gallagher was, with his deep green eyes and soft smile. He wasn't sure, but Mickey figured he was smiling back.

At that moment, both of them were snapped out of their own world and back into reality by a honking car. Ian turned briefly to the road and spotted a gray car stopped at the side of the road.

_"Oh shit. I forgot I asked my sister to pick me up."_

he stammered, loosening his grip on Mickey's shoulders.

_"You need a ride?"_

Mickey glanced at the car and then up at Ian. He declined with a shake of his head

_"No, I'm good."_

Mickey's body felt hot and he knew he wouldn't be able to sit down in that car calmly now. In this car with Ian Gallagher and his sister. No fucking way. Mickey definitely needed a walk now. So Ian nodded to him as if he were understanding

_"Okay. Then...see you around I guess."_

Mickey couldn't bring out more than a terse "yeah" and then he saw Ian Gallagher smile for the last time that night

_"Good night, Mick."_

The redhead finally disappeared and got into the car at the side of the road. Mickey stood there for a moment watching the car drive off. Finally, Mickey took another cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it. Slowly, he started on the short walk home. And Mickey couldn't help but grin. He walked down the street with that grin, enjoying the winter air. And Mickey couldn't stop. It was like his facial muscles were cramped in that stance. He was sure he looked like a complete idiot, but he didn't care at all. It was cold as shit in Chicago and only a few days left until Christmas. The store windows were decorated festively and colorfully. Christmas lights everywhere, little Santas...all the shit Mickey never really paid attention to. But that night he walked home slowly, admiring all the colorful lights in the windows, feeling warm, with only one thought running through his head.

Ian Gallagher had kissed Mickey Milkovich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS
> 
> Was that too fast?  
> Do you like Summer (and her silly name, lol)?  
> Honestly, when I think of Summer as I imagine her,  
> that would be a character to play for Emma Roberts (Queen, I love you) 
> 
> I'm hoping to move forward faster with chapter 6.  
> Chapter 6 is going to be my favorite one, btw :) 
> 
> I know I'm not an overly talented writer, but I'm having fun with it, and maybe my confused writing is at least a little entertaining for you hehe  
> And sorry again for being such a lame ass ^^


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people.  
> What lasts long finally becomes good...I think?   
> Chapter 6 has become my favorite chapter while I was writing it.   
> There's a little bit happening now. I hope you guys enjoy it.

**Ian:** hey, just wanted to tell you I had a lot of fun tonight. Are we cool?  
**Mickey:** I'm cool. Don't know 'bout your lame ass, Gallagher 😏  
**Ian:** You doubt my coolness? 😒  
**Mickey:** Who doesn't?  
**Ian:** 😏  
**Ian:** 🖕  
**Mickey:** 🖕 yourself  
**Ian:** Well, I need some sleep to recharge my coolness lvl **😏**  
**Ian:** Night, Mickey  
**Mickey:** yeah, yeah. Good luck.  
**Mickey:** Night, Ian  
**Mickey:** Yo, sup? Talked to ya sister. Hope you're okay?   
**Mickey:** you alive, Gallagher?   
**Mickey:** Are you ignoring me?   
**Mickey:** Okay, fine. Fuck you, Gallagher 

Three days had passed. Three whole days and tomorrow was Christmas. The day before Christmas, Mickey always had a long shift. The mall was open longer because many people had some last minute Christmas shopping to do.Like this damn holiday knocks on your door every year by surprise. Whatever. For this reason Mickey had more frequent and longer breaks.  
Time with which he knew nothing to do. He had spent at least 10 minutes on a bench next to the decadent fountain at the entrance area, staring incessantly at his phone. Over and over he had read the chat history. And goddamnit, he hadn't just done it today and during this break. Mickey remembered feeling like a fucking 3 year old spoiled brat on Christmas when he arrived home after the movie night and got a text message from Ian just a little later.   
His heart had skipped a few beats that night, his face had been hot and red, and Mickey had felt a warmth inside his belly. That night he had read the text messages over and over again, at least 20 times. It had been a sleepless night. But not one in which Mickey kept waking up from nightmares and had to toss and turn before he could close his eyes. Hell no, it wasn't like that. It was a night where he just lay on his back and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. Lost in thought, the scene from outside the movie theater played over and over in his head. He could remember exactly how soft and warm Ian's lips were. And mickey had been thinking about what would happen next. And he missed Ian. But overall, Mickey was happy.  
Until he wasn't. 

Day 1 - Insecurity 

Although he had had a maximum of 3 hours sleep, Mickey woke up the next morning half an hour before his alarm clock. Shit, he really could have used a little more sleep. At least that was his thought after he got out of the shower, got dressed and took a look in the bathroom mirror.  
Since he had gotten up early, Mickey still had plenty of time before his shift at the mall would begin. Like every morning, he would stop by the coffee club, get his black coffee, chat with Ian for a while, laugh and talk about useless crap, and then return to the dull routine of his daily life. And he would enjoy it. He thought. But Mickey was wrong. Because when he stood that morning in front of the Coffee Club, all the lights were still switched off and in the door, almost mocked him with loud laughter, the sign with the inscription "closed".  
Mickey's mind searched for an answer.  
He knew that Ian usually took the early shifts in the store. Except on Fridays. Fridays were the gay nigh that Ian had created and that's why he worked late on Fridays. But it wasn't Friday. Maybe Ian had felt just like Mickey the previous night? Maybe he had hardly been able to sleep and lay awake all night.... Had thought... About the night at the movies, the kiss.... And maybe he had just fallen asleep at some point and hadn't heard his alarm clock in time. Overslept. The thought brought back the warmth in Mickey's stomach and he had to grin a little. He decided to stop by again during lunch break and was already thinking about how he would tease Ian when he tells him he had overslept. He was going to call him Sleeping Beauty or some other girly shit. Something annoying that would make Ian roll his eyes and call him an asshole. Yeah. This.   
Mickey was happy 

  
A few hours later Mickey was again in front of the same door. This time the sign on the door laughed at him joyfully and told him "open"  
His heart was beating like crazy as he opened the door and entered the store. He still didn't know what to say in greeting, didn't know how he would act. All Mickey knew was that he wanted to see Ian again and no matter how awkward it could possibly be at first, he was determined to face it. Because even if after the kiss everything was a bit strange, because Mickey had never been in such a situation before, he didn't want it to stop. He was willing to continue to immerse in this feeling and situation. Damn, he couldn't help it. Even though he didn't know much, Mickey knew that he had never felt like this in his life, but that it was pretty much the best thing he had experienced so far in his unremarkable existence. But his heart stopped with a small, last bounce when he stepped in front of the counter and not Ian, but Fiona stood in front of him.  
She smiled kindly and asked him what he wanted to order. Hesitantly, he ordered a coffee and a huge bagel he spotted in the display. The brown-haired one immediately began putting together Mickey's order.

"Is Ian off today?"

  
Mickey wanted to know, trying to sound bored 

Fiona didn't dignify him with a glance, but continued to work the coffee machine and warm up the bagel. Nevertheless, Mickey got an answer from her. 

"Oh Ian. Yes. He wasn't feeling so well this morning, so I'm taking his shift."

A quick, seemingly just put-on smile in Mickey's direction and there was the bagel, packed in a bag with a mug of coffee to go for Mickey on the counter.  
At that moment, it had occurred to him that Ian's sister hadn't asked him if he wanted to take a seat in the store or have it wrapped to go. She had simply decided for him.  
He decided not to start a discussion about it, but took the coffee, the paper bag and walked towards the exit.  
As he walked, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened the text messages with Ian and typed :

_Yo, sup? Talked to ya sister. Hope you're okay?_

Day 2 - fears 

Nothing. Simply nothing. No message, no sign of life. Ian had not answered and it was driving Mickey crazy.  
He had thought about what the brunette meant by "he wasn't feeling so well".   
Was Ian sick? Had they been out in the cold too long and now the redhead had a damn cold and was in bed all day?   
At least that was Mickey's first thought and with this thought he managed to get half the day around without worrying his head. Whenever he had a chance, he checked his phone, only to glance at his own a message that was last seen in the chat history.  
After work, Mickey decided to stop by the coffee club again. Maybe Ian was back now and hadn't had time to answer him. Maybe Mickey would open the door and the adorable, handsome jerk would grin wryly at him.

Unfortunately, he was disappointed to discover that the thought was too good to be true. A redhead was waiting for him in the store, but it was the wrong one. Debbie. 

"oh, the douchebag is back. What do you want?"

A lovely and warm welcome.... As he was used to from the effervescent ginger sister.

"chill your tits, peppermint. Coffee. Black"

He didn't know exactly why, but somehow he liked Debbie. She was tough, sassy, no-nonsense, and had bite. Mickey appreciated these qualities. At least as long as people with these characteristics played in his team.And Debbie... Did Debbie actually play in any team or only in her own? Who knows. But these little jibes just felt familiar by now.

"say - please- and maybe I won't spit in your fucking cup" 

she grumbled and typed mickey order into the cash register.

"I like the poisonous note. Feel free" 

he joked and put the money for the coffee on the counter. 

"is your brother okay?"

Mickey finally wanted to know, catching himself trying to sound disinterested once again. 

"I have four brothers, which one are you talking about?"

Mickey knew that the girl with the big mouth knew damn well which brother he was talking about. But he ignored the pointlessness of that question and answered anyway

"Ian" 

Debbie shrugged her shoulders

"I don't know. Hey do you wanna keep busting my balls and have the coffee here or are you going to take it with you?"

"what do you mean you don't know? Your sister, the... Fiona, yesterday she said Ian was sick. Anyway, which balls?!"

Debbie frowned skeptically

"Did she? Well, I guess you heard wrong. He just has some private shit to take care of, so he's not working right now. None of your business though, I guess?!"

In fact, she had not said it directly. Mickey had only put it together because it made sense.  
Ian doesn't feel so good and has to deal with private shit. What the hell was that supposed to mean?  
Why didn't Ian respond to Mickey's messages. He should have read them by now, if he wasn't sick. 

"hey, will I get an answer today?"

The little redhead's annoyed tone snapped Mickey out of his thoughts and he looked confusedly into Debbie's questioning eyes.

"What question? “

Debbie sighed

"your coffee. Drink here or to go?"

Mickey probably took a second too long to give an answer, so Debbie had already put a paper cup on the counter for him

"then to go, please get on someone else's nerves".

"Thank you, little miss sunshine."

He replied sarcastically and added, "Tell Ian to check his messages."

He was almost out the door when he heard Debbie's voice

" He would answer, if he wanted to, Mickey."

At that moment, Mickey was no longer happy.  
What the fucking hell was that supposed to mean? And at the same time it was creepy how she addressed him by his name. 

Mickey didn't comment on this statement. He left the store and his thoughts raced from one corner to another.  
Was Ian "sick" because of him?  
Had he perhaps thought it had been a mistake? Did he not want to talk to him? Was Ian avoiding him? Or was it about something else entirely? After all, God knows the earth didn't revolve around mickey. Ian had a private life... Probably friends and a busy schedule. Maybe Mickey just didn't know enough about Ian to assess the situation.  
But fuck it, the asshole could at least just give him a sign of life. How else would Mickey know what was going on?  
At this point he pulled his phone out of his pocket again and typed:

_you alive, Gallagher?_

  
Day 3 - Despair

Mickey's sleep schedule was totally fucked up again. He was at the point where the nightmares were slowly boiling back into his consciousness. And as soon as he was awake, he thought about what was wrong with Ian. Why Ian had just ditched him.... In the rain.   
No matter how much Mickey racked his damn brain over it, he couldn't come up with the goddamn answer. It was not possible. But his brain just wouldn't stop thinking about this guy. Mickey had never dared to fully think this one thought. It was kind of obvious and yet so strange. But on this day, he dared to complete it. The reason why all this was upsetting him so much and his emotions were on a roller coaster was possibly that he was about to fall hopelessly in love with Ian Gallagher.   
And the one question his brain was concocting as a result, Mickey couldn't answer. Again. Did Ian Gallagher feel the same?  
Or was Mickey simply a joke? An opportunity? An experiment? The uncertainty was getting to Mickey. Still nothing had changed on his phone. No message from Ian.  
That morning Mickey had been up early again, and as he strolled past the coffee club, heading for the mall, he saw Debbie just locking up the store. She hadn't noticed Mickey and he left it at that. He didn't feel like talking to anyone or getting any more cryptic messages from her that would drive his brain even further into the fucking far reaches of his own mind. 

And so Mickey's day started - sleepless, anxious, dreary and full of strangers. Because as soon as the mall opened its doors, people stormed the stores inside like a horde of zombies that had smelled human flesh.

Briefly he thought about what a tender redemption it would be if this horde of zombies would satisfy their hunger with his brain.  
But no one did him that favor.  
Instead, he had to free a little boy who had locked himself in the toilets on the first floor and couldn't get the door open from his stinking prison, throw out a homeless man who was about to throw up in the fountain, and then there was Summer. Summer followed him almost every step of the way, because the boss wanted it that way. And since that evening at the cinema, summer had even been tolerable company. If his head hadn't been full of all this confusion about Ian, he probably would have spent the whole day running his mouth about the annoying customers together with her. But Mickey had other things to worry about, so he just nodded off most of the things Summer babbled on about all day, squeezing out a forced grin every now and then until they had their first break this day. Summer had a milkshake and she drank it in such a way that the straw continuously made loud slurping noises. Meanwhile, she had her phone in her hand non-stop, vigorously typing messages on it in record time.   
Every now and then she giggled and finally she held her phone under mickey's nose

"This meme just fits perfectly"

Disinterested, Mickey tried to grasp what was on the small screen in front of his face.  
It was a squirrel and it looked like it was gratefully praising the sky. The signature said *when an annoying customer says they're never coming back*

"It's your size, don't you think?"

Summer stuck out her tongue, grinning cheekily.   
She hadn't been calling him dwarf or gnome for days. Squirrel was kind of an improvement.  
The joy of this lasted only briefly as Mickey realized who had sent Summer that damn squirrel meme. It was in the middle of several text messages... Someone had sent it to her in a conversation. And that someone was none other than Ian fucking Gallagher.  
What the hell was that about?  
Mickey was trying to reach Ian all the time.... Waiting for an answer, feeling like a discarded handkerchief that was no longer needed, only to find out that he must have been sitting in front of his cell phone all day, exchanging messages with summer. Realizing that was like a kick in the gut. Mickey was sad and angry at the same time. He couldn't help himself.  
He got up and left the small snack bar where the two had spent their break 

" Gotta go to the fucking toilet"

Had he just grumpily commented and left the store, looking for a reasonably quiet place to sit down alone. The entrance area of the mall was large and spacious and next to the fountain, Mickey discovered a free bench.

He pulled out his phone and typed:

_Are you ignoring me?_

And he knew Ian would have to read the message almost the moment Mickey sent it. He knew it, because 2 minutes ago Ian had time to send shitty memes to Summer. 

So he stared at the phone and waited. This time he had to get an answer after all. It couldn't be that Ian was doing this to him right now. That Ian was really hurting him like this. Fuck.   
He waited.   
Nothing.  
And Mickey would have liked to throw the phone into the fountain and beat up the next person who came along. But he didn't. He concentrated on not losing his temper and with trembling hands he typed one last message

_Okay, fine. Fuck you, Gallagher_

It felt like drawing a line in the sand.  
Still, Mickey caught himself again waiting for an answer. Despite everything. And he hated it, because he knew Ian wouldn't respond. 

In that moment, a hand rested on Mickey's shoulder.  
When he looked to the side, Summer had sat down beside him 

"Either you have a deep hatred for squirrels, or holy crap, something is wrong with you"

Something was wrong with him.  
Yes, but Mickey wasn't the type to have a liberating conversation about feelings.... 

"Who the heck could hate squirrels?“

Summer punched him lightly on the shoulder and grinned

"Obviously you, grumpy cat! “

Mickey didn't look at her, but fixed his gaze on the water bubbling noisily beside them.

" I think we agree that it is not the squirrels. You want to tell me what's wrong with you or just be grim the rest of the day?"

Of course, it wasn't the fucking squirrel. Jesus Christ. But what was he supposed to tell her?  
I'm into Ian but he ignores me and that's why I'm pissed off? He kissed me and then left me lying around like an old toy? I'm desperate as shit because I let my walls down once and now I regret it? Surely not. This shit would stay in Mickey's head. After thinking about possible answers, but deciding that he didn't want to say any of them, summer took the floor again and surprised Mickey

"It's because of Ian right? Did the moron really not tell you?"

What the hell was she talking about?

"Tell me what?"

Mickey was tense, couldn't believe what he was hearing, and Summer clearly must have noticed.... By his facial expressions... The tone of his voice... But Mickey couldn't help it. He wanted to protest. Just a shitty answer for once. He deserved it, didn't he?! 

Summer gave an exaggerated sigh

"okay... Listen. You're my colleague... And even though you're only five feet tall and we got off to a bad start, I care about you, Mickey."

"Skip that shit, princess" 

"Ey! Listen to what I have to say or eat shit, Grumpy! All right?!"

Her voice sounded bitchy and commanding

Now Mickey also sighed

"yes... Please go on..."

Gritting his teeth, he accepted her order, because he didn't feel like playing games and he was tired from all that. Clarity was all he needed and apparently Summer could make a significant contribution to that, since she had been exchanging happy memes with Ian all fucking day.

" Just don't freak out... Ian told me everything."

Everything. What means everything?  
Mickey felt like he actually knew exactly nothing.

"I mean... About you guys... After I went home..."

How awkward.  
Fuck it. 

"Congratulations, anything else? "

He still didn't look at her and tried with all his might to play it cool. But he would have preferred to yell at Summer to get to the point.

" I'm cool with it, really. No judging. But after that he told me something else. I don't think I'm in a position to speak for Ian, he has to do that himself. But I guess you can stop worrying." 

More riddles.  
That was no help.   
What did Ian tell her? Why are they talking about him? What are they talking about him? And how does she know he didn't have anything to worry about? What the hell was this all about? 

Summer got up from her seat next to Mickey and lightly but noticeably kicked his foot

" let's finish this damn work day and trust me. Everything will be fine."

Nothing was fine.

The day had finally passed somehow and when the mall closed its doors Mickey could finally leave this place and return to his little world on the living room couch.

On the way home, Mickey had bought a bottle of Jack Daniels at a 24-hour kiosk. He had dimmed the lights in the room, his phone was on the table and he had the opened bottle of Jack Daniel's in his lap. Mickey had the   
heater turned all the way up and was therefore sitting cross-legged on the sofa in just his boxer shorts.   
On the television flickered barely audible *The Grinch* . Mickey laughed at the ugly little shits in their shitty ugly outfits and reached for his phone.   
No new messages.  
What else.   
The clock on his screen showed midnight. Mickey raised the bottle in the air as if he wanted to toast with someone. 

"Merry Christmas, Jack." 

And he drank a big gulp. The swill burned in his throat and he felt his body getting warmer and warmer.

What a shitty Christmas.  
Mickey was alone. He had gotten a call from Mandy a few weeks ago, telling him she couldn't make it to Chicago for Christmas. Stress at work or some shit. Whatever. So what was left for him to do? Ian had forgotten about him. Ian had a family and was a fucking redheaded, gorgeous, Adonis. What was Mickey in comparison? Lonely? Pitiful? Small? A Milkovich.  
Another sip from the bottle. Mickey would just finish that bottle, watch the damn Grinch and then use his phone to find some cheap amateur gay porn on the internet.... He'd have a little fun with himself and still feel bad afterwards. That's exactly how it would go and after that he might even sleep for an hour.

And Mickey's plan had worked. He woke up again at 2:26.  
The TV was still on and since Mickey was sure he would be awake for a while now, he sat up and looked for his cigarettes on the table.

He had only taken 2 drags on his cigarette when his cell phone lit up.  
Mickey checked the phone and held his breath for a moment. It tickled in the pit of his stomach as he read what was on the screen

2 new messages

Actually, Mickey wanted to unlock the screen right away, wanted to read what it said. But as much as he wanted to, he didn't want to. Mickey was afraid.  
He took another drag on his cigarette and drank the last sip of Jack Daniels from his bottle. Shit he was scared as hell. There was a possibility that there was something there that Mickey didn't want to read. A reproach? Mockery? A goodbye?

No, Ian wouldn't do that.  
He wouldn't, would he?  
It didn't help him to rack his brain. For the last three days, Mickey had wanted answers. An explanation. And now that there was something, something that was probably an answer, his legs felt like pudding and he wanted to run away. Run where? Fuck.  
He unlocked the phone and tapped the notification.   
The chat window with Ian opened and Mickey read :

**Ian:** You awake?  
**Ian:** 2119 N. Wallace st. 

  
Shit. That was all. No answer, no explanation. What was the address for? Did Ian want him to go there now? At this hour. And is that why Ian asked if he was still awake? Because he wanted mickey to go there now? With one leap, mickey jumped up from the couch and rushed into the bathroom. Never before had he slipped into his clothes so quickly.  
While he got ready, he weighed all possible options in his head. Different kinds of goodbyes ran through his mind. He was unable to think positively, but he needed to know. Now or never

It was freezing cold and the streets were empty. Mickey had packed himself into his too large winter jacket and had set off. Direction Southside.  
It took about half an hour for Mickey to arrive at the address from Ian's message. The house was in the middle of Southside and was only a few streets away from the house where Mickey had grown up. He knew the area well and he had also walked by the house quite a few times.  
The house was in darkness, it didn't look like anyone was awake inside. Shit, what now? Mickey couldn't just walk into the house, nor did he want to bang on the door and wake all the Gallaghers from their sleep. God knew how many of them existed anyway.

He was just thinking about going around the house to see if there was a light on the other side, when a familiar voice came out of the darkness.

"I'm glad you came"

Mickey spun around, trying to see something in the darkness. There was a car in front of the house and, he actually hadn't noticed before, Ian was sitting on the hood of the car, looking in his direction. Mickey could only make out outlines from a distance, so he walked towards the car until he could see Ian clearly in the pale moonlight. Until he could see the expression on his face. Until a feeling of relief spreaded.   
Ian Gallagher smiled meekly.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me"

Added Ian. Then there was silence for a moment. Mickey's words were stuck in his throat. He was still overwhelmed with relief. 

Ian lit a cigarette and took a drag. Then he slid a little to the side on the hood of the car.  
"Wanna sit down?"

The hood was cold, Mickey felt it through his pants.  
But space was limited and that's why he and Ian sat close together.

Silence reigned for a while, until Mickey plucked up courage and broke the silence

"will you tell me what's wrong with you?"

The redhead nodded 

"yes, that's why you're here."

Ian leaned back on the hood and handed Mickey his half-smoked cigarette. He now lay next to Mickey and stared up at the night sky

"remember I told you I am on medication?"

Mickey nodded.  
It was the day after Ian got really drunk and spent the night on Mickey's couch. Ian had mentioned it in passing and mickey had asked no further questions. 

"Yeah."   
"I'm bipolar and that's why I've been avoiding you the last few days." 

Mickey had never heard of it before and had no idea what Ian was talking about. 

"What the heck does that mean?"

It sounded like some kind of disease. Something contagious?  
Mickey still didn't understand anything.

"It's manic depression, extreme mood swings that include emotional highs and low. These mood swings can affect sleep, energy, activity, judgment, behavior and the ability to think clearly." 

"sounds like some bad shit man. But you're on medication, you said."

Mickey inhaled the last puff of Ian's cigarette and then flicked it into the street. Ian just looked at the sky and gave a soft sigh

"Of course. But they are no magic pills. When I take them, it's easier to keep my moods in check, but that's all it does. There are still certain triggers that cause me to lose control sometimes."

Mickey didn't know exactly what to do with all this information.  
He didn't understand where the conversation was going. This was not one of the scenarios that had been crawling through his head. But so far it wasn't anything dramatic, right?

"Okay. So what can you do when this shit happens to you?"

Ian did not answer immediately but looked at Mickey for a moment.  
Long and insistently. And Mickey looked at Ian. Even in this darkness Mickey could see how damn good-looking that motherfucker was. Fuck. Finally Ian broke the silence

"I have arranged a contingency plan with my family. If I get weird, they keep an eye on me. Most of the time it's annoying as fuck, but it's better that way. And then it's a matter of figuring out what my trigger is and..."  
Ian stopped and looked up at the sky again.   
It took him a moment to complete his sentence 

"... Then I simply avoid the trigger."

It finally sunk in.   
1 + 1 is 2.   
It was him. The trigger, Ian talked about was him. But why?  
Had he fucked up in some way?  
No, when? Mickey had never had the chance, because since that one night Ian had ignored him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. What's all that supposed to mean. 

"What the fuck do you expect me to say now?"

It sounded angrier than it should. But shit, Mickey had no idea how to understand all that. Ian had felt bad and it was Mickey's fault - somehow. And Jesus Christ, it didn't really make any sense. Was this just the most apocalyptic version of goodbye in the end? A version so stupid and weird that even Mickey couldn't come up with it? 

"I don't expect anything. But..."  
Mickey didn't want to hear the but part. That little word pricked at his heart.

"Look, whatever I did that set this shit off with you was not my intention, okay. I didn't know..." 

Mickey had interrupted Ian, and now Ian was interrupting him. 

"Mickey."   
That way Ian said his name. Mickey could clearly hear a wry grin resting on Ian's face. The tone... That small, inconspicuous sound made Mickey's guts dance.

"What I wanted to say was. I think I have a handle on it."

A rock, no a fucking huge boulder came loose from Mickey's heart and plopped into his stomach. The ginger sat back up and casually stretched his back. The damn hood wasn't exactly the most comfortable place. Finally, Ian swung himself off the hood with vigor and walked up and down for a moment in small and slow steps. Mickey watched him silently. It gave the impression that Ian was nervous. 

"I've been fucking great, Mickey".

"Okay..." 

"I could hardly sleep the last few days, but still I was never tired. I could have pulled out fucking trees. I'd been jogging for hours and shit, I still wasn't tired. My mood was at a disgusting point of great."

Ian took a few steps toward Mickey and stopped right in front of him

"I guess what I'm saying is, you're not the problem."

Mickey had to look up a little. Sitting there on the hood and Ian standing in front of him, he felt so small.  
And Ian finally finished his speech

"I think I have a little crush on you."

Up was down and down was up. Right, left, black, white.   
Nothing mattered anymore.   
Ian had really said that.  
A little crush   
Ian Gallagher  
And Mickey thought about what he would say to that.  
He had to say something.

I might have a crush on you too

You make me happy 

I want to kiss you

But what Mickey ultimately said was :

"I think I'm really not good with this shit. Can we maybe skip it?"

And it sounded a little embarrassed.   
It sounded a little challenging.   
Playful.  
All of it.  
And they skipped it.

Ian had his head bent down and leaned his weight against Mickey.  
In order not to simply fall over, Mickey had to brace himself against the car. It didn't take much and he would have been lying with his back on the hood. Holy fucking moly.  
Mickey looked straight into his eyes.   
It was a gentle look. Yet serious. And slowly, Mickey could see an unassuming smile emerging in the nighttime darkness.   
And Mickey wasn't sure, it was as if he no longer had any control over himself or the situation. But it didn't matter at all. It was cold as shit, it was dark, and it was the middle of the night. It was Christmas and despite the winter cold, Mickey was warm. With Ian's body pressed against his, he was almost entirely on that fucking hard hood. Mickey thought he knew it was Fiona's car, but even that didn't really matter. All that mattered was him and Ian. Here. Now. And when the two men's lips touched that night, Mickey felt fireworks in his guts. This time, no one would interfere. And so it was. Mickey never wanted the moment to end again.  
The kiss began slowly and tenderly. And for a while, it was as if their lips were dancing a slow waltz to 'are you lonesome tonight'.  
For a moment, the two detached from each other to fill their lungs with air. There was a brief exchange of glances. It was Mickey who decided at that moment that this dance was not yet over. And the rhythm changed. It took only a few seconds before he felt Ian's tongue on his upper lip. Once. Twice. Fuck.  
A sweet tickle coursed through his body, ending in his pants.  
It was different. Mickey could remember well the evening with Ian outside the movie theater.   
Less shy. Less innocent.   
A little wilder. More intense.  
And when Ian's tongue slid over his lip a third time, Mickey thought he was losing his mind. Finally, the redhead disengaged from Mickey's face, but made no move to let Mickey up. They remained in position, faces still close together. 

"It's damn late."

It sounded like a whisper.

"Fiona is spending the night at her boyfriend's place, she won't be home until tomorrow morning. You can stay the night. I mean... If you want."

It almost sounded like he wasn't sure. As if a part of him feared Mickey might refuse.

"I'd be pretty pissed if you sent me home, Gallagher."

It was a playful reply with a small grin that Mickey tried to suppress but couldn't quite manage.   
And Ian grinned as well. 

It was the middle of the night. In a few hours, the annual Christmas madness started. Mickey had never been interested in Christmas. At the Milkovich house, it had been a day like any other since Mickey could remember. There had never been any presents, no family dinners or any of that crap. He had no happy, joyful, or fond memories.  
And although he hadn't considered it before, he would break that tradition this year. In the best way possible.

Mickey was happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you for reading.   
> I'm slow as hell and my talent is limited, so I appreciate it when you're still here :) 
> 
> I think we are slowly coming to the end.   
> I'm not sure yet how many more chapters I'm going to expand this story to.   
> I still have a few things in mind that I really want to happen. Maybe 2 or 3 more chapters? Would you guys be up for that? 
> 
> What are your thoughts? 
> 
> Actually, my plan was to link you to the squirrel meme and also the song at the end that is mentioned. But unfortunately my laptop is broken and via cell phone I'm too stupid xD Grandma and technology...jaja. As soon as I have a chance, I'll catch up. 
> 
> That's all for now. Thank you so much and see ya, guys :)


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